HERMAN  K .  V IELE 


ACF 


The  Inn  of  the  Silver  Moon 


Thtrr  were  drops  of  ivattr  in  her  hair. 


The   Inn  of  the 
Silver     Moon 


Herman  Knickerbocker  Viele 


HERBERT  S.  STONE  tf  COMPANY 

ELDRIDGE    COURT,    CHICAGO 

MDCCCCI 


COPYRIGHT,    IQOO,    BY 
HERBERT  S.  STONE  &.  CO. 


TO 

THE   FRIEND    OF    THE 

JOURNEY' s    END 

AT    THE    INN  OF    THE 
SILVER       MOON 


2061940 


The  Inn  of  the  Silver  Moon 


I. 

"If  you  will  refrain  from  talking  all 
at  the  same  time,  I  will  tell  you  every 
thing  that  I  know,"  said  the  gardener, 
loftily,  "  and  as  it  was  I  who  last  saw  the 
master  alive,  what  I  have  to  say  may  be 
of  some  importance." 

The  gardener  laid  stress  upon  the  ad 
jective,  and  observing  that  the  under 
housemaid  chanced  to  be  occupied  in 
tying  a  pink  string  about  the  neck  of 
the  cat,  he  waited  until  she  had  finished 
before  continuing. 

"  It  must  have  been  five  o'clock,  or  a 
trifle  later.  Monsieur  was  in  the  white 
rose  arbor  taking  his  afternoon  tea.  I 
was  nearby,  at  the  geranium  bed,  filling 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

in  a  cavern  which  Boy  had  pawed  in 
the  very  middle.  I  had  been  most  care 
ful  to  shut  the  beast  in  the  tool  house, 
but  as  usual  he  had  contrived  to  escape. 
Just  as  I  had  finished  resetting  the 
plants  the  master  called — 

'"Paul/  he  said,  'yesterday  was  the 
day  for  clipping  the  poodle.' 

'"That  is  true,  Monsieur,'  I  answered, 
'but  by  good  fortune,  I  noticed  that 
the  probabilities  predicted  it  would  be 
cooler.' 

" '  On  the  contrary,'  he  replied,  '  it  is 
much  warmer  to-day.  Why  has  it  not 
been  done  this  morning?' 

"  I  was  obliged  to  explain  that  I  had 
not  been  able  to  find  the  clippers  ;  that, 
in  fact,  this  Image  of  Satan  had  hidden 
them  himself,  as  he  always  does  on 
Wednesdays." 

The  gardener  shuffled  his  feet  un 
easily  and  looked  about  him  to  note 
the  effect  of  his  disclosures. 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

"What  else?"  demanded  the  butler, 
coldly. 

"What  else?  Why  nothing  else.  I 
took  the  dog  to  the  stable.  That  is  all 
I  know." 

"  It  is  all  you  would  be  likely  to 
know,"  sniffed  the  butler,  waving  his 
hand  in  stately  dismissal. 

"  That  does  not  settle  the  question  of 
dinner,"  said  the  cook  as  he  bisected  an 
onion. 

"  The  dinner  will  be  served  as  usual !" 
spoke  the  butler,  as  one  having  au 
thority. 

"  But  if  Monsieur  is  not  here  to  eat 
it—" 

"  That  is  not  our  affair." 

In  June,  between  the  planting  and  the 
harvest,  there  is  held  at  Greslin  a  mar 
ket,  to  which  it  was  the  custom  in  times 
gone  by  for  the  farmers  to  bring  the 
surplus  of  young  pigs  from  the  spring 
3 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

litters  to  be  sold  to  the  townpeople, 
many  of  whom  were  glad  to  purchase 
one  or  more  to  fatten  in  their  gardens 
during  the  summer.  Of  late  years 
changes  in  the  methods  of  agriculture, 
and  more  stringent  sanitary  regulations 
against  the  keeping  of  pigs  in  towns, 
have  caused  the  abandonment  of  the 
original  purpose  of  the  market ;  but 
the  name  is  still  preserved  and  the  date 
kept  as  a  local  f£te,  celebrated  with 
rustic  games,  and  the  attendant  assem 
bly  of  tombolas,  carousals,  and  itiner 
ant  amusements  of  all  kinds.  A  pig  is 
set  at  liberty  in  the  market  place,  well 
smeared  with  lard,  to  become  the  prop 
erty  of  whomsoever  may  succeed  in 
catching  him,  and  stalls  for  the  sale  of 
charcuterie  still  reflect  the  origin  of  the 
festival.  All  day  the  cabarets  are  filled 
with  thirsty  rustics,  and  the  red  wine  of 
the  country  flows  freely.  In  the  even 
ing  there  is  a  bonfire  in  the  place  and 
4 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

dancing  under  the  horse-chestnut  trees 
where  the  peasant  girls  vie  in  gaiety  of 
attire  with  their  more  sophisticated  sis 
ters  of  the  government  match  factory, 
and  where  for  the  hour  the  most  frugal 
man  becomes  a  spendthrift,  the  most 
sedate  a  gallant. 

Of  all  the  country  side,  Achille  Vif our 
alone  had  never  seen  the  Market. 
Often  when  after  dinner 'the  ladies  had 
withdrawn  and  the  glow  of  Burgundy 
fell  warm  upon  the  cloth,  he  had  heard 
his  elders  chuckle  as  they  recalled  some 
old  remembrance  of  the  fair.  Year  by 
year  through  the  palings  of  the  Chateau 
wall  he  had  seen  the  peasants  hurrying 
toward  the  town  with  laughter  and 
clumsy  chaff  ;  night  after  night  he  had 
heard  them  returning  with  new  store  of 
wit  and  scraps  of  song  learned  from  the 
mummers,  and  at  such  times  he  would 
vow  that  another  year  should  see  him 
among  the  merry  makers ;  but  with 
5 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

every  opportunity  came  a  new  reluc 
tance,  a  fear  lest  a  reputation  earned 
by  years  of  studious  habit  and  punctili 
ous  conformity  to  the  demands  of 
his  position,  should  be  compromised. 
Then,  too,  it  is  poor  fun  to  go  rioting 
alone,  and  the  popular  impression  that 
Achille  was  superior  to  such  frivolity 
discouraged  offers  of  companionship. 

It  is  the  way  of  the  world  that  when 
an  individual  once  starts  upon  a  career 
of  exemplary  behavior,  hands  are  not 
wanting  to  accelerate  his  progress  ;  to 
boost  him,  so  to  speak,  from  level  to 
level  up  the  pyramid  of  Virtue  till  at 
last  he  stands  upon  an  eminence  as  un 
comfortable  as  it  is  conspicuous.  Thus 
Achille  was  not  only  often  overlooked 
when  adventure  was  afoot,  but  it  was 
expected  of  him  that  on  a  return  from 
a  visit  to  the  Capital,  he  should  bring 
intelligence  of  the  latest  movements  in 
literature  and  art ;  that  he  should  have 
6 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

opinions  touching  the  music  at  St. 
Roche  or  even  of  the  preaching  at  the 
Madeleine,  and  shall  he  be  blamed  if  it 
was  behind  closed  doors  that  his  piano 
gave  forth  echoes  of  the  Cafe  Chantant 
or  that  the  volumes  picked  up  beneath 
the  arcades  of  the  Odeon  and  Rue  de 
Rivoli  were  not  conspicuously  placed 
upon  his  library  shelves? 

It  was  the  day  of  the  Pig  Market  and 
Achille  Vifour,  having  finished  his  tea, 
placed  the  cup  upon  the  iron  table  at 
his  elbow  and  looked  from  the  white 
rose  arbor  across  his  pleasant  acres  of 
fruit  and  flowers,  smooth  turf  and 
snowy  gravel.  From  any  point  of  view 
it  was  a  charming  garden,  a  trifle  stiff 
perhaps,  a  stranger  might  have  said — 
but  in  the  eyes  of  the  young  bourgeois 
the  place  was  a  veritable  Paradise. 
Nevertheless  as  he  rose  and  stepped 
into  the  sunlight  he  regarded  the 
familiar  scene  with  less  than  wonted 


The   Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

approbation,  and  stretched  his  limbs 
with  something  like  a  yawn. 

At  the  far  end  of  the  garden  the  high 
enclosing  wall  gave  place  for  the  dis 
tance  of  some  thirty  metres  to  an 
equally  high  iron  railing,  divided  into 
panels  by  massive  columns  of  masonry 
on  which  were  great  stone  balls. 
Through  this  grille  the  passers-by 
along  the  road  beyond  could  see  the 
flowers  and  trees,  and  above  them  the 
high-pitched,  many-gabled  roof  of  the 
Chateau,  with  turret  and  pinnacle  such 
as  bear  the  name  of  the  merriest  king 
that  ever  lived — the  king  who  set  old 
France  a  laughing  so  that  the  smile  has 
not  yet  faded. 

From  the  garden  one  could  see  the 
world  without,  the  great  flat  poplar- 
studded  world,  flaming  with  poppies, 
gay  with  gold  wheat ;  and  the  long 
white  road  where  the  trees  in  double 
ranks  touched  elbows  like  soldiers  on 
8 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

parade.  Along  the  road  ran  well-paved 
gutters,  bordered  by  belts  of  close- 
clipped  grass.  In  all  the  land  there 
was  not  a  bramble,  a  weed,  or  a  foot  of 
idle  earth. 

As  Achille  looked  far  out  across  the 
fertile  -plain  he  shook  his  head  and 
sighed,  then  drawing  from  his  pocket  a 
paper-covered  book,  he  opened  it  and 
turned  to  some  passage  that  had  caught 
his  fancy.  The  book  was  a  translation 
of  a  tale  by  Cooper  and  the  passage  a 
description  of  scenery  in  the  wilds  of 
the  Horican. 

'The  river  was  confined  between 
high  and  cragged  rocks,  one  of  which 
impended  above  the  spot  where  the 
canoe  rested.  As  these  again  were  sur 
mounted  by  tall  trees  which  appeared  to 
totter  on  the  brows  of  the  precipice — ' 

Achille  looked  out  again. 

"  It  must  be  altogether  different,"  he 
said. 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

He  might  have  continued  his  read 
ing,  but  seeing  ahead  a  mention  of  one 
Chingachgook,  a  character  for  whom 
he  entertained  an  unreasoning  dislike 
on  account  of  his  name,  he  closed  the 
book,  and  turned  again  to  watch  the 
moving  shadows,  the  infinite  lines  of 
trees,  and  the  pleasant  reaches  of  the 
distant  river  Loup.  Sometimes  when 
the  breeze  veered  a  little  to  the  south 
it  brought  the  sound  of  music  from  the 
town. 

Presently  the  round  -  shouldered, 
pigeon-toed  postman  came  trudging 
along  beneath  the  trees.  With  his 
scrip  and  staff  he  might  have  been  a 
pilgrim  who  wore  for  penance  a  heavy, 
closely-buttoned  woolen  coat  of  winter 
above  the  cotton  trousers  of  July.  See 
ing  Achille  through  the  grating,  the 
man  unslung  his  mail-bag,  and  ap 
proaching  made  a  military  salute. 

"  Shall  I  ring?"  he  asked  respectfully, 
10 


Would  Monsieur  take  his  letter  himself  f 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

"or  would  Monsieur  desire  to  take  his 
letter  himself?" 

"  I  will  take  it,"  said  Achille.  "  Have 
you  but  one?" 

"  Only  one  for  the  moment,  Monsieur. 
There  are  doubtless  others,  but  every 
one  at  Greslin  is  completely  insane  on 
account  of  the  Pig  Market.  Monsieur 
is  going  to  the  Pig  Market — no?  Ah, 
it  is  a  spectacle!  It  is  like  Paris.  One 
cannot  hear  himself  speak  for  the 
noise,  and  all  the  world  is  intoxicated. 
Monsieur  would  find  it  very  agree 
able." 

"Without  doubt,"  assented  Achille. 
"  Give  me  my  letter,  and  hurry  back. 
Here  is  something  to  help  you  make  up 
for  lost  time." 

"  Monsieur  is  amiable.  Au  revoir, 
Monsieur." 

Achille  retired  with  his  letter  to  a 
shady  seat  near  by,  and  broke  the  seal. 
The  bees  buzzed  persistently,  a  cricket 

IX 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

chirped  in  the  wall ;  from  the  torture 
chamber  came  the  plaintive  moans  of 
Boy  and  the  soothing  voice  of  Paul— 

"  Have  grace,  my  brave  one,  till  I 
have  finished  thy  stomach.  Keep  thy 
paw  in  thy  pocket  or  I  may  cut  off  thy 
beautiful  wristlets." 

The  letter  was  a  long  one,  and  after 
a  paragraph  or  two  of  formal  compli 
ment  ran  thus: 

"  It  was  only  yesterday  that  I  was  so 
fortunate  as  to  obtain  the  long  promised 
interview  with  Madame  la  Marquise  de 
Banville.  As  you  have  doubtless  been 
informed,  Madame  is  a  victim  to  neu 
rasthenia  in  its  most  aggravated  form, 
and  is  therefore  seldom  permitted  by 
her  physician  to  do  anything  that  is  not 
amusing.  As  this  was  my  seventh  visit, 
each  by  special  appointment,  you  may 
picture  to  yourself  my  joy  at  being  told 
that  I  was  at  last  to  be  admitted.  It 
was  the  first  time  that  I  have  had  the 

12 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

honor  of  meeting  Madame,  and  though 
they  tell  me  that  she  has  changed 
greatly  since  the  days  of  the  Empire,  I 
would  swear  that  she  still  retains  much 
of  her  youthful  vivacity.  From  the 
anteroom  I  could  not  help  hearing  the 
remark  with  which  my  card  was  re 
ceived.  'It  is  that  pig  of  a  notary!' 
she  exclaimed,  '  I  suppose  he  will  never 
stop  coming  till  I  see  him.  Admit  him, 
and  if  he  stays  more  than  five  minutes, 
announce  the  doctor.' 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  I  stated  my 
errand  without  unnecessary  delay.  Her 
answers,  I  must  confess,  were  both 
evasive  and  unsatisfactory.  To  be 
brief,  my  friend,  the  Marquise  refuses 
to  consider  your  engagement  to  her 
niece  as  serious,  avowing  that  both 
your  late  respected  father,  and  her 
brother,  had  been  dining  generously 
on  the  occasion  when  the  pledge  was 
made  that  was  to  join  your  infant  hand 
13 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

with  that  of  Mdlle.  de  Belle  Isle.  She 
insists  further, — pardon  my  frankness, 
but  it  is  best  that  you  should  know  the 
whole  truth, — that  you  must  be  a  rustic 
in  a  blue  blouse  with  trousers'  pockets 
large  enough  to  carry  wine  bottles,  and 
that  you  doubtless  misuse  your  knife  at 
the  table. 

"  Madame  was,  however,  good  enough 
to  say  if  the  young  lady  upon  seeing 
you  should  express  a  wish  to  become 
your  wife,  she  herself  would  make  no 
objections  ;  provided  that  upon  investi 
gation,  your  fortune  proved  to  be  as 
represented  ;  and  added  that  she  ex 
pected  you  to  keep  clear  of  all  entan 
glements  until  such  time  as  it  might  be 
convenient  for  her  to  arrange  a  meet 
ing.  In  a  word,  that  she  would  con 
sider  you  as  bound  while  the  young 
woman  remained  free  to  choose  for 
herself. 

"As  I  was  about  to  protest  warmly 
14 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

against  the  unfairness  of  this  proposi 
tion,  the  doctor  was  announced." 

"It  is  preposterous!"  cried  Achille. 
"  Here  am  I,  leading  the  life  of  a  her 
mit  in  obedience  to  my  father's  wish, 
while  this  old  woman  is  at  liberty  to 
treat  my  name  and  estate  like  parcels 
from  the  Bon  March&i  to  be  returned  if 
unsatisfactory !" 

So  saying  he  turned  once  more  to  the 
letter  in  his  hand,  a  page  of  which  re 
mained  unread. 

"Concerning  Mdlle.  de  Belle  Isle,  I 
regret  that  I  have  been  able  to  ob 
tain  but  the  most  meagre  information. 
Though  nearly  twenty  years  of  age  the 
young  lady  is  still  at  the  convent,  the 
fifth  at  which  her  education  has  been 
conducted,  and  as  each  successive  in 
stitution  appears  to  have  been  more 
positive  in  its  piety  than  the  last,  I  fear 
that  she  may  have  a  leaning  towards 
the  religious  life. 

15 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  Through  the  intervention  of  my 
brother's  wife,  I  have  spoken  with  the 
good  Mother  Superior  of  the  convent 
before  last,  but  all  that  she  could  be  in 
duced  to  say  in  answer  to  the  most  deli 
cate  questioning  was,  'Ah!  Mademoi 
selle  de  Belle  Isle  !'  raising  her  eyes  to 
heaven.  When  I  ventured  to  touch 
upon  the  question  of  personal  appear 
ance  she  answered  only — 'Beauty  is  not 
everything— 

"Which  is  to  say,"  muttered  Achille, 
tearing  the  letter,  and  scattering  the 
fragments  to  the  wind  regardless  of  the 
spotless  turf — "Which  is  to  say,  that 
I  have  the  honor  to  be  betrothed  to  a 
camel  who  dresses  like  an  English 
woman  and  observes  the  canonical 
hours!  .  .  .  Ah!  what  forethought 
on  the  part  of  parents !  What  a  beau 
tiful  system !" 

Taking  up  the  yellow  book,  he  flour 
ished  it  in  the  air. 

16 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"It  would  be  better,"  he  cried  "to 
be  a  savage  like  this  Cooper ;  this 
Uncas  ;  this  Sacred  Chin-gach-gook  ! 
Better  shoot  the  Wampum,  track  the 
Tomahawk  to  its  lair,  and  hurl  the 
deadly  Moccasin.  .  .  Parbleu!  what 
have  I  done !" 

Achille  had  not  meant  literally  to 
hurl  anything,  but  in  his  excitement  the 
yellow  book  flew  from  his  grasp,  and 
skimming  the  palings  lighted  in  the 
very  middle  of  the  white  road  directly 
in  the  path  of  two  ladies  upon  bicycles 
who  chanced  to  be  approaching. 

Both  ladies  screamed,  and  the 
younger  losing  her  balance  dismounted 
hurriedly.  Achille  rushed  to  the  bars 
with  many  protestations  of  regret,  but 
the  lady  who  was  still  awheel  only 
elevated  her  chin  disapprovingly  as  she 
described  a  figure  eight  upon  the  road 
while  waiting  for  her  companion  to  re 
mount.  She  was  a  comely  woman — a 
17 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

trifle  plump  perhaps  for  knickerbock 
ers —  but  she  rode  gracefully,  and 
Achille  would  have  persisted  in  his  de 
mands  for  pardon  had  not  the  other, 
turning  suddenly  toward  him,  caused 
him  to  forget  everything  else. 

It  was  as  if  the  prismatic  universe 
came  in  an  instant  to  a  focus  ;  as  if  all 
the  gold  of  the  wheat  were  suddenly 
concentrated  in  one  bright  aureole  of 
blonde  hair  beneath  which  all  the  blue 
of  the  sky  shone  from  two  laughing 
eyes.  It  was  as  if  all  the  green  of  the 
earth  had  condensed  itself  into  one 
tailor-made  costume,  and  the  varied 
colors  of  the  cultivated  fields  had 
shrunk  to  the  dimensions  of  a  pair  of 
Scotch  plaid  stockings. 

The  lady  seemed  much  amused,  and 
when  her  companion  called  to  her, 
"  Let  us  hurry  on,  this  is  doubtless  a 
private  lunatic  asylum,"  she  only  smiled 
the  more  sweetly,  and  then  to  Achille's 
18 


- 


She  stopped  and  picked  up  the  book. 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

amazement  stooped,  and,  picking  up 
the  "Last  of  the  Mohicans"  from  where 
it  lay,  advanced  toward  him  trundling 
her  wheel  by  the  handle,  and  laid  the 
volume  in  his  hand — 

"Monsieur  has  lost  his  book,"  she 
said  softly,  blushing  as  she  spoke.  "  It 
is  fortunate  that  we  chanced  to  be 
near." 

Before  he  could  bring  himself  to  utter 
a  word  she  had  mounted  and  ridden 
away.  As  she  joined  her  friend  he 
thought  he  heard  her  say: 

"  He  seems  perfectly  harmless." 

Achille  watched  the  figures  till  they 
were  out  of  sight.  Once  he  fancied  that 
the  slighter  of  the  two  turned  and 
looked  back  and  he  waved  his  hand, 
but  in  a  moment  regretted  an  action 
that  might  be  misconstrued  into  further 
evidence  of  an  unsound  mind. 

He  concealed  the  Story  of  Uncas  in 
the  hollow  of  a  statue  representing  the 
19 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

God  of  Love,  and,  reasoning  that  the 
ladies  could  not  possibly  have  come 
from  a  great  distance,  set  about  devis 
ing  plans  for  the  establishment  of  their 
identity  that  would  have  been  creditable 
to  the  Bureau  of  Secret  Information. 
Had  he  followed  his  first  impulse  he 
would  undoubtedly  have  ordered  the 
English  dog-cart,  and  in  the  course  of 
a  drive  stopped  casually  at  the  sign  of 
the  Gol.den  Cat,  whose  landlady  was 
a  specialist  in  the  doings  of  the  local 
gentry;  but  realizing  the  futility  of  the 
most  subtle  diplomacy  during  the 
progress  of  the  Market,  he  abandoned 
the  idea  and,  chafing  under  the  burden 
of  enforced  inaction,  paced  to  and  fro 
behind  the  grating  with  the  exagger 
ated  disquiet  of  a  zoological  specimen. 
"Pshaw!"  he  cried,  "I  am  rapidly 
becoming  the  lunatic  for  which  she  took 
me!"  and  with  an  effort  to  regain  the 
contentment  of  the  early  afternoon  he 
20 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

left  the  grating.  But  the  garden  had 
become  an  assortment  of  vegetables 
stupidly  growing  in  highly  fertilized 
earth,  the  cricket  a  noisy  imbecile,  the 
bee  an  intolerable  bore,  and  at  last,  un 
able  to  endure  the  exasperating  calm 
ness  of  nature,  he  opened  the  great 
gate  and  stepped  out  upon  the  highway. 

There  lay  the  road  straight  and  level 
as  a  bowling  alley,  with  the  trees  like 
misplaced  tenpins  along  the  side ; 
beyond,  the  fiat  fields  took  on  new  flat 
ness,  the  river  stretched  motionless  as  a 
sleeping  snake. 

"Ah '."sighed  the  young  man,  "the 
road  is  like  my  life.  It  has  a  stone  for 
every  hundred  metres.  Ah,  if  one 
might  but  sometimes  lose  the  way! " 

Beyond  the  nearest  meadow,  a  line  of 
willows  marked  the  course  of  a  small 
stream,  the  little  river  Loup,  and  among 
them  nestled  the  low,  red-tiled  roof  of 
a  washing  shed.  The  sight  of  this 

21 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

brought  to  his  mind  a  pleasant  sugges 
tion  of  cool  water,  and  as  he  knew  that 
all  the  accessories  to  a  comfortable 
plunge  were  there  he  welcomed  the 
thought  as  an  inspiration. 

Achille  splashed  for  awhile  in  water 
scarcely  above  his  waist,  and  then  seek 
ing  more  adventurous  sport  moved 
down  the  stream  to  a  pool  behind  the 
willow  patch  in  which  a  man  might 
swim  without  encountering  the  sandy 
bottom.  Here,  tempted  by  the  sun 
shine,  he  prolonged  his  bath  beyond  its 
usual  limits;  and  when,  at  last,  he 
waded  back,  shaking  the  water  from 
hair  and  eyes,  he  did  not  at  first  observe 
that  some  one  had  come  to  the  washing 
shed  during  his  absence. 

"Hello!  "he  cried,  when  he  saw  he 

was  not  alone.  "Hello! Sacre 

Bleu!" 

The  stranger  wore  his  clothes,  his 
favorite  pearl  gray  suit  and  his  broad- 

22 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

brimmed  straw  hat;  even  his  violet 
necktie  and  his  patent  leather  shoes. 

"Sacre  Bleu!"  he  repeated.  "What 
is  the  meaning  of  this?" 

"  Do  not  be  disturbed,"  said  the 
stranger,  lightly, "  I  have  only  taken  the 
liberty  of  borrowing  from  your  ward 
robe  to  attend  the  fete.  It  is  possible 
that  I  may  return  the  clothes  later 
unless  I  find  that  I  am  becoming 
attached  to  them;  at  any  rate,  Monsieur 
has  doubtless  many  more,  and  I  will 
gladly  place  my  own  apparel  at  his  dis 
posal.  I  hope  that  he  will  consider  my 
humble  outfit  as  his  own  for  the  time 
being.  I  would  also  suggest  that  as  the 
evening  is  getting  chilly,  and  as  ladies 
might  pass  at  any  moment,  Monsieur 
should  lose  no  time  in  making  his  toilet. 
I  have  tied  knots  in  the  arms  of  the 
blouse  and  in  the  legs  of  the  pantaloons 
which  will  detain  Monsieur  some  little 
time  and  prevent  any  impetuosity  on 
23 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

his  part  in  the  matter  of  pursuit,  which 
might  be  unpleasant  for  both  of  us. 
My  address,  by  the  way,  is  the  Inn  of 
the  Silver  Moon.  Pray  bear  it  in  mind. 
I  have  the  honor  to  say  au  revoir;  a 
plaisir!" 

So  saying  the  stranger  lifted  the 
broad-brimmed  hat  and  sauntered 
leisurely  away. 


II 

Apparently  there  was  no  choice  for 
Achille  but  to  put  on  the  garments 
left  him  by  the  stranger.  It  would 
have  been  futile  to  look  to  the 
Chateau  for  assistance,  for  his  voice 
could  not  have  been  heard  beyond 
the  outer  gate;  and  knowing  well 
the  rapidity  with  which  the  story 
of  his  mishap,  once  started,  would 
spread  throughout  the  small  com 
munity,  he  did  not  care  to  attract  the 
attention  of  chance  passers  along  the 
road.  Amused,  in  spite  of  himself,  at 
his  predicament,  he  laboriously  untied 
the  knots,  and  at  last,  an  excellent 
counterfeit  of  a  needy  workman,  he 
laughed  heartily  at  his  own  reflection  in 
the  stream. 

He  had  fortunately  taken  the  precau- 
25 


The   Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

tion  to  hide  his  pocketbook  with  his 
watch  and  keys  in  a  crevice  in  the  wall 
where  they  had  escaped  the  notice  of 
the  thief,  and,  the  first  flush  of  indigna 
tion  passed,  he  argued  that  it  might  be 
the  part  of  wisdom  to  let  the  criminal 
go  unpunished  rather  than  furnish 
material  for  the  merriment  of  his 
friends. 

Sitting  upon  the  edge  of  a  linen 
barrow  Achille  looked  the  matter 
fairly  in  the  face.  Evidently  he  must 
delay  his  return  to  the  Chateau  until 
dark,  and  still  it  seemed  imprudent  to 
remain  in  a  place  where  the  servants  on 
discovering  his  absence  would  be  sure 
to  seek  him  .  .  .  Suddenly  a  light 
broke  on  his  puzzled  meditations  .  .  . 
Surely  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  a 
shabby  young  workman  passing  an  hour 
or  two  at  the  Pig  Market,  where  among 
the  throng  there  were  many  who  knew 
which  chateau  of  the  neighborhood 
26 


My  address  is  the  Inn  of  the  Silver  Moon. 


The   Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

sheltered  a  guest  much  given  to  bi 
cycling  and  Scotch  plaid. 

With  the  stealthy  tread  of  an  intelli 
gent  Mohican,  Achille  followed  the 
river  bank  until  a  kilometre  lay  between 
him  and  the  garden  gate;  then,  crossing 
the  fields  to  the  road,  he  adopted  what 
he  conceived  to  be  the  bearing  of  an 
artisan  upon  a  holiday,  and  struck  out 
toward  Greslin,  singing  as  he  went. 

The  young  man  sung  at  first  because 
he  considered  song  to  be  in  keeping 
with  his  role,  but  presently  he  found 
himself  singing  from  very  lightness  of 
heart,  and  smiled  as  he  recalled  the 
refrain  of  an  old  Provencal  ditty  to 
recognize  in  it  the  meaning  of  the 
address  given  by  the  stranger — 


What  care  if  the  day 

Be  turned  to  gray, 

What  care  if  the  night  come  soon. 

We  may  choose  the  pace 

Who  bow  for  grace 

At  the  Inn  of  the  Silver  Moon. 

27 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 


Ah,  hurrying  sirs, 

Drive  deep  your  spurs, 

For  it's  far  to  the  steepled  town — 

Where  the  wallet's  weight 

Shall  fix  your  state 

And  buy  for  ye  smile  or  frown. 
Through  our  tiles  of  green 
Do  the  stars  between 

Laugh  down  from  the  skies  of  June, 

And  there's  naught  to  pay 

For  a  couch  of  hay 

At  the  Inn  of  the  Silver  Moon. 

You  laboring  lout, 

Pull  out,  pull  out, 

With  a  hand  to  the  creaking  tire, 

For  it's  many  a  mile 

By  path  and  stile 

To  the  old  wife  crouched  by  the  fire — 

But  the  door  is  wide 

In  the  hedgerow  side 

And  they  ask  not  bowl  nor  spoon, 

Whose  draught  of  must 

Makes  soft  the  crust 

At  the  Inn  of  the  Silver  Moon. 

Then  here's  to  the  Inn 

Of  the  empty  bin; 

To  the  Host  of  the  trackless  dune, 

And  here's  to  the  friend 

Of  the  journey's  end 

At  the  Inn  of  the  Silver  Moon. 

Before  the  song  was  ended  Achille  had 
covered  half  the  distance  to  Greslin. 
28 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

As  he  walked  between  the  trees  he 
recalled  that  she,  his  fair  green  lady, 
had  passed  there  not  many  hours  be 
fore.  At  the  bridge,  where  the  little 
river  Loup  crosses  the  road,  he  paused 
to  wonder  if  she  had  rested  upon  the 
broad  stone  parapet.  As  he  climbed 
the  long  hill  to  the  town  he  thought  of 
her  and  pictured  her  beside  him;  not 
the  princess  that  she  must  be,  but  a  girl 
of  the  people,  and  he  the  vagabond  that 
his  dress  proclaimed  him.  He  pictured 
them,  this  humble  couple,  as  being  very 
poor,  depending  on  a  fiddle  and  a  tam 
bourine  for  sous  and  supper.  He  pic 
tured  one  impossibility  after  another, 
changing  scene  and  circumstance  to 
suit  his  fancy,  but  in  all  his  pictures  they 
two  were  hand  in  hand. 

On  the  outskirts  of  Greslin  the  high 
way  is  joined  by  another  of  less  impor 
tance,  coming  from  the  hills,  the  borders 
of  the  forest,  and  the  stony  uplands 
29 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

called  by  the  peasants  "Purgatory"; 
and  at  this  meeting  of  the  ways  there 
stands,  on  one  hand  the  village  octroi, 
and  on  the  other  an  uninviting  wine 
shop  that  has  above  its  door  the 
"  carrot "  of  the  tobacco  license,  and  the 
withered  bush  that  proclaims  the  debit 
des  boissons. 

As  Achille  approached  this  suburb 
he  noticed  that  the  entire  male  popula 
tion  was  gathered  about  the  door  of  a 
low  shed  adjoining  the  tavern,  before 
which  a  red  stain  upon  the  road,  and 
some  fragments  of  glass  neatly  swept 
together  in  the  gutter,  announced  that 
a  bottle  of  wine  had  been  recently 
broken.  The  young  man  joined  the 
group  of  blue  blouses  and,  as  the 
attraction  that  had  drawn  them  to 
gether  was  evidently  upon  the  wane, 
had  little  difficulty  in  forcing  himself  to1 
the  front. 

Upon  the  straw  within,  the  landlord 
30 


The    Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

knelt  beside  a  prostrate  shape,  which 
Achille  thought  at  first  must  be  that  of 
a  wounded  animal,  but  which,  when  his 
eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  light, 
he  recognized  as  a  bicycle  with  its 
forward  tire  in  a  state  of  collapse. 

"Was  any  one  hurt?"  he  demanded, 
breathlessly. 

"  Hurt!  not  she,"  growled  the  land 
lord,  resentfully,  without  looking  up. 
"  But  the  question  is,  where  am  I  to 
put  my  donkey?  He  cannot  remain  on 
the  road;  he  cannot  sleep  in  the  bed 
with  my  children,  and  here  there  is  not 
room  for  both.  Now  she  has  gone  away, 
without  so  much  as  buying  a  drink, 
leaving  me  with  this  sacred  machine. 
How  do  I  know  that  I  shall  see  one  of 
them  again?  How  do  I  know  that  I 
shall  be  paid  for  my  trouble?" 

"  But  the  owner,  the  lady,  who  was 
she?"  cried  Achille,  impatiently. 

"  How  can  I  tell  who  she  was?" 
31 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"What  was  she  like?" 

"  How  do  I  know!  these  imbecile 
rich  are  all  alike.  When  they  are  fat 
they  tie  themselves  in;  when  they  are 
thin  they  stuff  themselves  out  .  .  . 
Hey!  what  are  you  doing  in  my  shed, 
who  told  you  to  come  in?  " 

Achille  had,  in  his  eagerness  to  learn 
the  particulars  of  the  accident,  advanced 
beyond  the  threshold,  and  the  irate 
publican,  observing  for  the  first  time 
the  intrusion  of  an  unpromisingstranger, 
turned  upon  him  angrily — 

"  What  do  you  want  poking  your 
nose  into  other  people's  sheds?  Par- 
bleu,  I've  seen  such  prowling  fellows  as 
you  taken  in  hand  by  the  gendarmes." 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Achille,  who  had 
yet  to  learn  that  the  poor  speak  plainly. 
"  Pardon  me,  but  I  am  greatly  interested 
in  this  lady." 

"Oh,  you  are,  my  boy!"  sniffed  the 
other,  scornfully.    "  Well,  I  don't  recall 
32 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

that  the  lady  expressed  any  great  interest 
in  you.  You  had  better  go  home  and 
make  yourself  a  little  more  chic  if  you 
are  after  the  girls." 

The  men  about  the  door  laughed,  and 
Achille,  anxious  to  make  the  best  of  an 
awkward  situation,  said: 

"  I  suppose  that  I  can  get  a  glass  of 
grog?" 

The  landlord  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
and  made  the  gesture  of  one  who  rubs 
a  coin  between  his  thumb  and  fore 
finger. 

In  the  low,  bare  taproom  a  stout 
carter  slept,  sitting  bolt  upright  on 
a  wooden  bench,  with  his  whip  and 
a  half-finished  tumbler  of  spirits  before 
him  on  the  table.  Behind  the  bar,  a 
round-faced  girl  smiled  officially. 

She  said  "good  day,"  and  asked 
what  Monsieur  desired.  Monsieur  de 
sired  cr&me  de  menthe,  but  Monsieur  did 
not  get  it.  In  its  place  he  took  apple 
33 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

brandy.  The  girl  had  seen  the  acci 
dent.  It  was  no  great  thing.  Two 
ladies  had  gone  past  toward  Greslin  on 
their  wheels,  and  in  half  an  hour  she 
had  seen  them  coming  back.  A  moment 
before,  someone  had  dropped  a  wine 
bottle,  and  the  road  was  covered  with 
glass.  People  are  so  stupid!  if  bicycles 
were  shod  with  iron  like  carriages  such 
things  would  not  occur.  Fancy,  a  little 
piece  of  glass  had  made  the  machine 
completely  useless!  It  had  been  the 
machine  of  the  younger  lady  that  was 
injured — that  is,  if  you  might  call  her 
young,  when  it  was  so  easy  to  buy  a 
yellow  wig.  After  the  accident  there 
had  been  a  great  commotion.  The 
elder  lady  had  been  very  much  agitated, 
and  had  insisted  upon  hiring  the  land 
lord's  donkey,  or  the  hay  wagon  of  the 
carter.  No  one  can  tell  what  might 
have  happened  if  the  gentleman  had 
not  arrived. 

34 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"What  was  the  gentleman  like?" 
asked  the  listener  carelessly. 

"  Oh,  very  elegant;  something  like 
this  Monsieur  Vifour  at  the  Chateau, 
but  with  more  air,  more  spirit,"  ex 
plained  the  girl,  adding  that  the  gentle 
man  had  talked  a  great  deal  with  the 
ladies,  and  that  they  had  all  three  gone 
back  to  Greslin.  To  her  mind  the 
whole  affair  was  very  droll. 

Achille  paid  for  the  brandy,  which  he 
had  slily  poured  into  the  glass  of  the 
sleeping  carter,  and  turned  to  go. 

"  Have  you  been  to  the  Pig  Market?" 
he  asked,  affably,  as  he  received  his 
change. 

"  Not  yet,  Monsieur,"  replied  the 
maiden  looking  down,  "  but  this  evening 
when  the  dancing  begins,  perhaps,  if 
anyone  cared  to  look  near  the  fountain 
in  the  corner  of  the  place  .  .  . 

Achille  did  not  stay  to  learn  what 
attraction  one  might  expect  to  find  at 
35 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

the  fountain,  and  as  he  raised  his  cap  in 
parting  salutation,  the  girl  added,  irrel 
evantly — "  Me,  I  am  engaged  for  every 
dance." 

About  the  place  of  Greslin,  in  a  hol 
low  square,  are  two  ranks  of  close- 
clipped  chestnut  trees.  The  long  cool 
alleys  beneath  are  usually  silent  as  the 
arches  of  a  cloister.  There  are  benches 
in  the  shadow,  but  they  are  rarely  used. 
There  is  a  fountain  in  the  corner,  built 
to  commemorate  a  forgotten  man  who 
wrote  a  forgotten  book;  but  the  basin 
is  empty,  and  in  a  land  of  wine  the 
water  is  not  missed.  An  old  man  with 
a  broom  of  twigs  sweeps  up  the  brown 
leaves  as  they  fall,  and  gathers  them 
into  a  bag.  In  the  autumn,  when  there 
has  been  a  frost,  his  son  helps  him  and 
they  have  a  horse  and  a  blue  cart.  It 
is  very  quiet  under  the  trees,  and  when 
the  priest  walks  there  he  draws  a  small 
book  from  the  breast  of  his  black  cas- 
36 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

sock  and  reads,  and  the  good  sisters, 
crossing  from  the  convent  to  the  church, 
bow  their  heads  while  their  lips  move 
silently.  The  children  coming  home 
from  school  go  round  another  way,  for 
the  old  man  with  a  broom  is  known  to 
hold  strong  views  on  the  subjects  of 
sabots  and  white  gravel,  and  the  soldiers 
prefer  the  outer  pavements,  either  on 
the  side  of  the  Golden  Cat,  or  on  that 
of  the  Coin  of  France.  Commonly  the 
place  is  as  sacred  to  fleckless  order  as  a 
New  England  parlor. 

Achille  shared  in  the  respect  of  the 
townspeople  for  this  their  municipal 
best  room,  and  experienced  a  feeling 
of  indignation  when  the  desecration 
wrought  by  the  Pig  Market  dawned 
upon  him. 

Beneath  the  chestnut  trees,  grim  and 
erect  as  policemen  at  an  opera  ball, 
were  a  score  of  tents  and  booths  flam 
ing  with  gaudy  banners  and  impossible 
37 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

cartoons,  while  before  each  door  drums 
were  beaten  or  men  and  women  in 
spangles  or  cotton  tights  told  shrilly  of 
the  marvels  to  be  seen  within.  In  the 
open  a  Strong  Man  tossed  cannon  balls 
into  the  air  as  though  they  had  been 
melons,  trusting  for  reward  to  voluntary 
contribution.  Young  women  hurried  to 
and  f^o  selling  bonbons  and  paper 
windmills,  and  older  women  offered 
rosaries  and  pictures  of  the  saints. 
Somewhere  rifles  were  cracking  in  a 
shooting  gallery;  from  another  direc 
tion  came  the  noise  of  a  steam  piano, 
which  shrieked  with  insane  hilarity. 
Everywhere  were  squads  of  awkward 
peasants,  lurching  aimlessly  from  booth 
to  booth,  eager  to  be  deceived  and 
cunning  to  resent  deception ;  their 
red  hands  deep  in  cavernous  pockets, 
guarding  greasy  sous  which  they  longed 
to  spend;  praying  in  the  same  breath 
for  temptation  to  overcome  their  avarice, 
38 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

and  for  new  strength  of  avarice  to  resist 
temptation.  There  was  little  talking 
and  less  laughter,  but  upon  every  face, 
rosy  or  wrinkled,  was  the  look  of 
beatified  satisfaction  that  is  the  national 
symbol  of  a  fete. 

Achille  stood  still,  unable  for  the 
moment  to  collect  his  thoughts  amid 
the  changes  that  had  come  to  the 
familiar  place. 

"  Try  your  strength  with  the  sledge 
hammer! "  shouted  a  voice  to  the  right. 

"  Buy  a  ticket  for  a  trip  on  the  Rus 
sian  Mountains!"  cried  one  to  the  left. 

"  Gentlemen  and  ladies ! "  bawled 
another,  "  the  Lion  Tamer  is  about  to 
enter  the  den! " 

Achille  joined  a  group  attracted  by 
the  dancing  bear,  and  when  the  tam 
bourine  came  round  threw  in  a  piece  of 
fifty  centimes,  more  because  the  solic 
itor  was  pleasing  than  to  mark  his 
appreciation  of  the  efforts  of  the  beast. 
39 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

Some  young  men  who  had  seen  the 
silver  slapped  him  on  the  back  and 
cried,  jovially: 

"Ah,  comrade,  you  have  sold  your 
pig!  Come  along  and  pay  us  a  drink!" 

"Why  should  I?"  demanded  Achille, 
but  not  illnaturedly. 

"  Oh,  if  you  can  afford  to  squander 
ten  sous  on  an  imbecile  bear,  you  might 
spend  a  franc  on  some  fellow  work 
men." 

"  As  to  that,  I  will  willingly  stand  a 
bock  all  round,"  said  Achille  laughing, 
and  with  a  gesture  of  the  arm,  recalled 
from  convivial  peasants  upon  the 
theatrical  stage,  he  led  the  way  toward 
the  nearest  cabaret. 

As  he  stood  with  his  guests  at  the  bar 
of  the  humble  drinking  shop,  one  of  the 
men  asked: 

"  What  trade  have  you,  my  little 
brother?  Your  hands  are  as  white  as 
those  of  a  baby." 

40 


The    Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  I  am  a  jeweler,"  answered  Achille, 
raising  his  glass,  and  pleased  to  discover 
in  himself  a  talent  for  deception  not 
before  suspected. 

"It  is  a  good  trade,"  said  another, 
adding  slily,  "  and  one  that  must  have 
its  opportunities." 

"  It  has,"  assented  Achille,  doubtfully, 
fearing  that  too  great  contentment  with 
his  lot  might  arouse  suspicion  as  to  his 
.right  to  wear  a  blouse,  "  it  has,  but  then 
there  are  many  drawbacks." 

"Ah,  I  suppose  so,"  sighed  the  first, 
sympathetically,  and  glancing  cautious 
ly  over  his  shoulder,  "  I  suppose  so. 
One  can  never  be  sure.  Well,  I  wish 
you  good  luck!  Some  time  when  I  am 
flush  it  will  be  my  turn  to  treat.  Au 
revoir,  little  brother,  you  need  have  no 
fear  of  the  gendarmes;  but  for  your 
hands  and  your  clean  collar  I  should 
have  taken  you  for  a  field  hand." 

Achille  did  not  attempt  to  correct  the 
41 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

unjust  impression  he  had  given  as  to 
his  moral  character,  but  he  resolved  on 
parting  from  his  fellow  toilers  to  adopt 
another  calling  should  occasion  arise. 
Then,  mingling  with  the  multitude,  he 
allowed  himself  to  drift  with  the  current 
from  one  attraction  to  another,  with 
eyes  and  ears  alert  in  eager  anticipation 
of  the  advent  of  the  unexpected. 

Before  the  door  of  the  Golden  Cat 
the  garrison  of  small  tables,  recruited 
in  honor  of  the  fete  from  a  platoon  to 
a  battalion  composed  largely  of  con 
scripts  from  garret  and  kitchen,  had 
spread  in  undisciplined  ranks  far  out 
in  the  roadway.  Among  the  tables 
were  gathered  assorted  generations  of 
prosperous  townsfolk,  and  well-to-do 
farmers  with  their  families  over  beer 
or  orgeat,  absinthe  or  syrup  of  cherries. 
Here  and  there  sat  representatives  of 
the  more  liberal  country  families;  or  a 
knot  of  officers  in  smart  uniform.  At 
42 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

one  table  a  young  priest  with  his  old 
mother;  at  another  a  painter  with  a 
beautiful  girl — one  would  have  said 
that  at  last  had  dawned  the  millennium 
of  Liberty,  Equality  and  Fraternity. 


43 


Ill 

Achille,  as  his  eyes  wandered  from 
group  to  group,  recognized  many  faces 
familiar  in  his  daily  life.  There  were 
the  Courvoisers,  male  and  female,  with 
whom  he  was  to  dine  on  Sunday. 
There  was  little  Bleauvelt  of  the  Line, 
who  was  to  breakfast  with  him  on 
Saturday.  There  was  the  saddler  and 
the  man  who  had  promised  to  mend 
the  garden  pump.  It  was  amusing  that 
they  should  not  know  him,  and  he 
laughed  inwardly  at  the  humor  of  the 
situation.  But  the  laugh  was  of  short 
duration,  for  at  a  far  table,  so  close  to 
the  white  wall  of  the  Golden  Cat  as  to 
be  within  the  shadow  of  the  iron 
balcony,  the  vision  rose  before  him  of  a 
broad-brimmed  straw  hat  with  a  white 
45 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

ribbon  about  it,  and  beneath,  the  shoul 
ders  of  a  pearl-grey  coat  and  a  necktie 
of  lavender. 

At  the  sight  his  sleeping  indignation 
awoke  with  renewed  strength,  he  forgot 
the  course  of  clemency  on  which  he 
had  resolved,  forgot  the  possible  conse 
quences  of  publicity,  and  forcing  a 
passage  through  intertabulary  spaces, 
before  whose  narrow  limits  a  waiter 
would  have  hesitated,  made  his  way  to 
ward  the  broad  straw  hat. 

Achille  had  read  that  a  guilty  con 
science  may  often  be  counted  on  to 
take  much  trouble  off  the  hands  of  an 
avenger,  and  he  reasoned  that  it  would 
be  well  to  give  a  guilty  conscience 
every  opportunity;  but  when  at  length 
he  stood  within  a  few  paces  of  the 
object  of  his  righteous  wrath,  the  im 
pulse  that  impelled  the  charge  had 
in  a  measure  cooled,  and  he  regretted 
that  he  had  not  called  upon  the  civil 
46 


The   Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

authorities  for  assistance.  He  regretted 
it  still  more  as  he  became  aware  that 
the  stranger  was  not  alone,  but  seated 
in  the  company  of  two  women  of 
apparent  respectability.  Their  faces 
were  turned  from  him,  but  their  backs 
were  neat  and  their  head  covering  in 
conspicuous,  and  when  he  lowered  his 
eyes  in  search  of  further  detail  they  fell 
upon  a  pair  of  Scotch  plaid  stockings 
clearly  visible  beneath  the  table! 

"  Have  a  care  who  you  shove! "  cried 
the  saddler,  who  felt  his  shoulder 
rudely  clutched. 

"  Monsieur  is  not  polite!"  exclaimed 
the  mender  of  pumps,  replacing  his  hat. 

Achille  felt  that  public  patience  had 
reached  its  limit  during  his  advance. 
Before  him  the  unexpected  grinned 
with  fiendish  mockery.  To  right  and 
left  the  saddler  and  the  pump  mender 
grew  visibly  anxious  that  he  should 
move  on. 

47 


The    Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

"Image  of  a  pig!"  he  muttered  glar 
ing  at  the  author  of  his  discomfort. 

The  image  of  a  pig  was  not  so  deeply 
engrossed  in  his  companions  as  to  be 
oblivious  to  what  was  taking  place 
about  him.  He  had  observed  the  com 
ing  of  the  shabby  figure,  and  now,  to 
Achille's  amazement,  he  rose,  and  after 
a  few  hurried  words  to  the  ladies, 
came  forward  as  rapidly  as  circum 
stances  would  permit;  upon  his  face  a 
smile  of  ready  recognition  and  in  his 
bearing  the  evidence  of  a  lively  satis 
faction. 

"Not  a  word!"  he  whispered,  when 
near  enough  to  be  heard,  at  the  same 
time  holding  up  a  warning  hand.  "  Not 
a  word!  I  am  in  disguise." 

"  You  are  in  my  clothes  ! "  retorted 
Achille  fiercely.  "  It  is  I  who  am  in 
disguise! " 

"  I  am  so  glad  that  you  have  come," 
went  on  the  stranger,  still  in  a  whisper. 
48 


:"*>•• 


The  Pig  Market, 


The   Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

"  I  did  not  discover  your  little  joke  till 
I  had  gone  two  kilos,  and  then  it  was 
scarcely  worth  while  to  return.  I  sup 
posed,  of  course,  that  it  was  a  pleas 
antry,  and  now  that  you  are  here  I  am 
sure  of  it." 

"A  pleasantry!" 

"  Yes,  about  the  money.  I  was  aston 
ished  to  find  the  pockets  of  these  excel 
lent  clothes  empty,  and  the  circum 
stance  has  caused  me  some  annoyance, 
but  Pierre  Rabot  can  take  a  joke  as 
well  as  the  next,  and  we  will  say  no 
more  about  it." 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  I  would  be  so 
foolish  as  to  leave  money  in  my  pockets 
where  such  a  fellow  as  you  could  get  it  ?  " 

"  One  can  never  tell,  but  of  course 
you  know,  the  better  one  is  dressed  the 
more  essential  money  becomes.  You 
must  have  been  greatly  amused  at 
the  situation.  I  can  fancy  how  you 
laughed!" 

49 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  Can  you,  indeed  !  I  assure 
you.  .  ." 

"  Come,  come,  no  apologies !  It  is 
not  a  joke  that  I  should  have  played 
myself,  but  then,  fun  is  more  primitive 
in  the  country  .  .  .  more  elemen 
tary,  shall  we  say  ?  And  now  that  you 
are  here  .  .  ." 

"  Do  you  imagine  for  an  instant  that 
I  have  come  to  give  you  my  money!" 
cried  Achille,  allowing  amazement  at 
this  new  impertinence  to  divert  him 
from  the  original  offence. 

"Oh,  as  to  that  it  shall  be  as  you 
please,"  returned  the  other  with  dig 
nity.  "  If  you  prefer  to  act  as  banker  I 
shall  be  perfectly  satisfied.  By  the 
way,  my  charming  friend  the  Countess 
de  Salviac  has  just  this  moment  been 
speaking  very  pleasantly  of  you.  It 
appears  that  she  passed  your  chateau 
this  afternoon  and  saw  you  at  the  gate. 
She  was  en  bicyclette,  and  with  the  Bar- 
50 


The    Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

oness  de  Brazos.  Perhaps  you  happened 
to  notice  her,  she  wore  Scotch  plaid 
stock.  .  ." 

"Silence!"  cried  Achille,  with  such 
vehemence  that  those  who  sat  nearest 
looked  about. 

"  Of  course,"  continued  Pierre  Rabot, 
"  I  should  not  have  spoken  of  such 
things  to  a  stranger  ...  I  hope 
you  do  me  justice  to  believe  it !  At  all 
events  the  young  lady  is  charming,  and 
what  is  more  she  has  expressed  a  will 
ingness  to  have  you  presented,  and 
with  people  of  her  position  you  know 
that  means  a  great  deal.  Come,  will 
you  join  us?" 

It  seemed  to  Achille  that  he  had 
fallen  asleep,  and  that  in  his  sleep  he 
dreamed  that  the  thief  had  become  his 
friend  and  benefactor.  He  tried  to  col 
lect  his  senses,  but  a  furious  band  had 
struck  up  the  March  of  Boulanger,  and 
his  thoughts  went  capering  to  the  tune, 
51 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 


Revenant  de  la  Revue!  The  world 
was  upside  down  ;  the  saddler  looked 
at  him  with  scorn  ;  the  pumpman  with 
contempt;  and  in  the  midst  of  the  con 
fusion,  the  brouhaha  of  the  cafe,  the 
tumult  of  the  Pig  Market,  there  sat  the 
lady  of  his  love  —  the  Countess  —  the 
goddess  —  and  she  had  expressed  a  will 
ingness  that  he  should  be  presented. 

"  Come,"  he  gasped,  "come,"  and  he 
started  toward  her,  forgetful  of  all  else, 
but  Pierre  Rabot  caught  his  arm  and 
held  him  back. 

"It  may  be  necessary,"  he  said,  "to 
make  some  explanation  of  your  present 
costume.  I  should  never  have  noticed 
such  a  matter,  but  women  are  so  much 
more  observant." 

"Camel!"  cried  Achille,  returning 
suddenly  to  a  consciousness  of  his  con 
dition,  "do  you  imagine  that  I  would 
meet  the  Countess  in  the  rags  of  a 
vagrant!  Wretch,  it  is  you.  .  ." 
52 


The    Inn   of   the    Silver   Moon 

"  Be  calm,  my  friend!  It  is  I  who 
would  present  you.  Ah,  I  have  it!  We 
will  say  that  you  have  been  milking." 

"Milking!" 

"  Yes,  I  will  tell  her  privately  that 
you  are  eccentric  —  just  a  little  cracked 
on  socialism  and  the  rights  of  man.  It 
will  be  capital!  Come  on! " 

"I  will  not  go  with  you!  I  shall  de 
nounce  you  before  the  whole  town.  I 
shall  tell  them  the  truth." 

"The  truth!"  cried  Pierre.  "Pray, 
do  not  speak  so  loud.  When  did  you 
divine  my  secret?" 

"  I  have  divined  nothing  except  that 
you  have  stolen  my  clothes." 

"Ah,  that  again!  really  you  grow 
tiresome.  But  the  time  has  come  when 
I  should  confide  in  you.  You  may  not 
believe  me.  Listen!  I  am  the  author 
of  All  Evil!" 

"The  Devil?"  gasped  Achille,  start 
ing  back  in  amazement. 
53 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  No,  no,  you  misunderstand  me. 
The  author  of  a  book  called  "All  Evil," 
which  has,  I  may  say,  created  some 
small  sensation  of  late.  I  have  been 
challenged  by  every  officer  in  the  garri 
son  of  Paris  above  a  sub-lieutenant." 

"Sir.    .    .!" 

"Yes,  there  was  not  an  exception. 
Believe  me,  I  have  but  to  raise  my 
hand  to  deluge  France  in  blood." 

"Really.  .  .!"  began  Achilla,  but 
Pierre  Rabot  continued  rapidly: 

"  When  you  have  read  my  book  —  I 
shall  take  the  liberty  of  sending  you  a 
copy,  Edition  de  Luxe,  very  rare  —  you 
will  understand  me,  and  I  hope  you  will 
love  me,  and  now,  away  with  care!  The 
Countess  waits.  Remember  you  have 
been  milking." 

As  Achille   suffered    himself    to  be 

drawn  beneath  the  balcony  it  was  with 

a    firm  determination    that  he  woyld 

become  a  party  to  none  of  the  decep- 

54 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

tions  in  which  his  guide  was  such  an 
adept.  He  was  convinced  that  the 
ladies  could  know  little  of  the  charac 
ter  of  Pierre  Rabot,  and  every  instinct 
of  chivalry  urged  him  to  put  them  on 
their  guard;  to  stand,  if  need  be,  be 
tween  them  and  the  consequences  of  a 
misplaced  confidence. 

There  was  something  fine,  too,  in  the 
idea  of  a  knightly  heart  beneath  a 
plowman's  blouse.  Perhaps  some  day 
he  would  meet  the  Countess  when  he 
was  better  dressed  and  hear  from  her 
the  story  of  the  noble  artisan.  .  .  It 
is  a  violet  moment  when  the  rays  of 
blue  duty  and  red  inclination  meet  and 
mingle. 

When  Achille  stood  at  last  before 
the  Countess,  the  climax  was  not  as  he 
had  pictured  it.  He  found  himself 
wedged  into  a  narrow  space  between 
a  stout  table  —  borrowed  from  the 
blanchisseuse  —  and  the  rougher  por- 
55 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

tions  of  the  facade  of  the  Golden  Cat. 
On  one  side  the  ladder  used  to  lower 
baggage  from  the  omnibus  barred  the 
way  of  further  progress,  and  on  the 
other  Pierre  Rabot  pressed  close 
against  his  elbow.  From  across  the 
board  the  Baroness  de  Brazos  regarded 
him  impassively  through  her  lorgnette, 
and  the  lady  who  had  expressed  a  will 
ingness  to  know  him  seemed  quite  un 
conscious  of  his  presence.  He  recalled 
uncomfortably  that  it  was  outwardly 
quite  another  man  who  had  been  the 
object  of  her  favor,  and  again  regretted 
that  he  had  not  confided  in  the  gen 
darmes.  Meanwhile  Pierre  Rabot 
talked.  Pierre  Rabot  was  always  talk 
ing. 

"  Permit  me,"  he  was  saying,  "  permit 
me  to  present  my  old  friend  Felix  Du- 
Lorme — the  great  DuLorme  of  whom 
you  have  doubtless  read.  He  is  called 
the  New  Jean  Baptiste — the  Herald  of 


The    Inn   of   the    Silver   Moon 

Universal  Love.  Forsaking  name,  rank 
and  a  career  of  exceptional  promise,  he 
has  devoted  the  best  years  of  his  life, 
and  a  considerable  portion  of  his  im 
mense  fortune,  to  the  service  of  the 
poor  and  humble.  Born  in  a  palace  he 
has  chosen  to  make  the  cot  of  the 
peasant  his  shelter  for  ten  long 
years  —  but,  ladies,  to-night  his  vow 
expires,  and  he  intends  to  return  to  the 
state  in  which  he  was  born,  and  for 
which  he  is  so  eminently  fitted.  To 
night  he  resumes  his  title  of  Duke 
de  .  .  .  but  no,  I  must  not  speak 
the  name  until  the  midnight  bell  has 
tolled!  .  .  .  Felix,  my  boy,  lend  me 
five  hundred  francs  to  pay  the  waiter." 

"  Five  hundred  francs !  "  gasped 
Achille,  again  allowing  surprise  to  take 
the  place  of  just  resentment. 

"Did  I  say  five  hundred!  I  meant 
five  thousand,  or  five,  which  was  it? 
Do  be  quick! " 

57 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

Achilla  would  not  have  acted  as  he 
did  had  not  the  fat,  familiar  features  of 
the  garden  of  the  Golden  Cat  mutely 
announced  a  time  of  reckoning;  but  he 
knew  the  power  of  penetration  beneath 
that  calm  exterior,  and,  reluctant  to 
arouse  his  curiosity,  he  drew  forth  his 
well-filled  pocket  book  and  produced  a 
roll  of  notes. 

"  I  have  not  that  much  silver,"  he 
said,  "but  here  is  one  hundred, 
perhaps  .  .  . 

Deftly  plucking  the  bill  from  his 
fingers,  and  with  a  regretful  glance  at 
the  others  more  firmly  held,  Pierre 
Rabot  laughed. 

"  I  will  get  the  change,"  he  said.  "  I 
see  my  old  friend  Baron  Blumm 
there  yonder;  trust  a  banker  to  have 
money  about  him.  Excuse  me  for 
one  moment  ...  I  will  re 
turn." 

Pierre  Rabot  did  not  return  at  the 
58 


The    Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

end  of  one  moment,  nor  at  the  end  of 
many;  in  point  of  fact  he  did  not  return 
at  all. 


59 


IV 

Achilla  was  left  alone  with  the  ladies. 
Even  the  fat  waiter,  seeing  in  the  silver- 
mounted  pocket  book  security  for  the 
modest  addition,  hurried  away  to  con 
ciliate  more  pressing  patrons.  The 
Baroness  continued  to  regard  him 
through  her  lorgnette;  the  Countess  to 
regard  everything  within  range  of 
vision  except  him. 

"  Mesdames,"  he  said,  when  it  became 
evident  that  the  search  for  the  Baron 
Blumm  was  likely  to  be  prolonged, 
"  Mesdames,  if  I  have  seemed  to  intrude 
myself  upon  you,  it  is  only  that  I  may 
have  an  opportunity  to  warn  you  that 
the  individual  who  has  this  moment 
left  us,  is,  to  speak  mildly,  a  most  unre- 
61 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

liable  person.     But,  perhaps,  you  are 
already  aware  of  this— 

"  Indeed,  we  are  not,"  said  the 
Baroness,  lowering  her  glasses  and 
suddenly  becoming  interested.  "  We 
know  nothing  of  him  except  that  he 
has  a  chateau  not  far  from  here,  and 
that  he  has  kindly  offered  his  carriage 
to  take  us  back  to  St.  Ives,  Mademoi 
selle  having  met  with  an  accident  that 
disabled  her  bicycle." 

At  the  word  "Mademoiselle"  the 
heart  of  the  young  man  gave  an  exul 
tant  bound. 

"I  have  heard  of  the  accident  to 
the  Countess,"  he  said,  sympathetically. 
"  I  trust  that  she  has  escaped  unin 
jured." 

"  I  am  not  a  Countess,"  exclaimed  the 
victim,  impatiently,  speaking  for  the 
first  time  but  without  turning  her  head. 
"  Pray,  do  you  see  this  Monsieur  Vifour 
returning?" 

62 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  Monsieur  Vifour? "  stammered 
Achille. 

"  Surely  you  know  the  name  of  your 
old  friend!" 

"  Achille  Vifour?  "  inquired  the  young 
man,  meekly. 

"  No,"  explained  the  Baroness,  who, 
now  that  the  ice  was  broken,  had  be 
come  most  affable.  "  This  one  is 
Georges  Vifour — a  bourgeois  family,  not 
distinguished,  but  highly  respectable. 
He  has  a  brother  Achille,  who  is,  I  fear, 
a  trifle  weak-minded — nothing  serious, 
you  understand — this  afternoon  we  saw 
him  at  the  gate  of  the  chateau  behaving 
in  the  most  singular  manner.  They  are 
twins  and  dress  alike." 

"Madame!"  cried  the  young  man, 
"Achille  Vifour  may  be  an  imbecile, 
but  he  has  no  twin  brother;  and  if  he 
had  it  would  not  be  this  Pierre  Rabot. 
You  have  been  deceived  by  a  scoundrel 
who  has  neither  chateau  nor  carriage, 
63 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

and  who  is  at  this  moment  escaping 
with  my  hundred  francs,  and— 

"Merciful  heaven!"  exclaimed  the 
lady.  "  He  has  my  cycle  satchel  that  he 
insisted  on  carrying!  It  contains  my 
diamond  ring,  and  eleven  francs  fifty! 
Let  us  follow  him!  " 

"  I  will  notify  the  authorities  at  once." 

"  But  the  police  would  ask  our  names, 
would  they  not?" 

"Certainly." 

"Then  we  can  do  nothing.  No,  it 
would  be  a  scandal.  The  ring  was  no 
great  thing,  pretty,  but  —  from  the 
Palais  Royal,  you  understand.  Let  it 
go.  See,  we  are  attracting  attention, 
pray  sit  down." 

For  several  minutes  the  Baroness 
poured  forth  an  eloquent  denunciation 
of  Rabot,  and  Achille,  rejoicing  in  the 
misfortune  that  had  brought  him  into 
such  confidential  relations  with  at  least 
one  of  the  ladies,  listened  with  sympa- 
64 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

thetic  interest  till  the  other  inter 
rupted — 

"  Madame,"  she  said,  "  do  you  realize 
our  position?  If  this  is  true,  and  no 
carriage  has  been  ordered  for  us,  we 
are  here  five  kilos  from  St.  Ives,  and 
without  means  of  returning." 

"  My  bicycle  is  uninjured,"  replied  the 
Baroness,  adding  sweetly,  "but,  of 
course,  nothing  would  induce  me  to  go 
without  you." 

"  I  should  hope  not!"  cried  the  other 
nervously.  "  Really  we  must  lose  no 
time  in  finding  some  conveyance." 

"  Rather  a  difficult  matter  I  am 
afraid  to-day,"  remarked  the  Baroness, 
blandly. 

"  Mesdames,"  exclaimed  Achille,  "  I 
shall  be  honored  if  you  will  regard  me 
as  your  servant." 

"  It  would  be  but  another  proof  of 
your  benevolence,  Monsieur  Du 
Lorme,"  replied  the  elder  lady,  gra- 
65 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

ciously,  "  if  you  could  even   borrow  a 
donkey." 

"  I  will  not  ride  on  a  donkey,"  said 
the  Countess  with  decision. 

"  I  assure  you,  Mademoiselle  ..." 
began  Achille,  but  before  he  could 
finish  the  sentence  there  arose  in  the 
fair  a  commotion,  which  grew  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye  to  an  uproar,  and 
from  an  uproar  to  a  panic.  Smoke 
curled  among  the  chestnut  trees  in  the 
direction  of  the  booths,  and  on  all  sides 
frantic  voices  cried  that  the  menagerie 
had  taken  fire,  and  that  the  animals 
would  soon  be  loose.  The  air  was  filled 
with  the  terrified  screams  of  women, 
the  wild  shouts  of  men,  and  the  seem 
ingly  wilder  orders  of  the  police  striving 
to  reassure  the  crowd. 

"  Idiots,"  cried  the  captain  of  the 
guard,  "  it  is  not  the  beasts  that  burn, 
it  is  the  waxworks;  can  you  not 
smell?" 

66 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

But  the  frightened  people  did  not 
stop  to  reason.  On  they  came  in  a 
tidal  wave  toward  the  Cafe  of  the 
Golden  Cat,  and,  before  the  charge, 
tables  and  benches  went  down  with  a 
resounding  crash.  Here,  owing  to  the 
fat  waiter's  presence  of  mind  in  imita 
ting  a  lion,  there  was  a  moment's  pause 
of  which  Achille  was  quick  to  take  ad 
vantage.  Seizing  the  ladder,  he  planted 
one  end  firmly  on  the  top  of  the  stout 
table,  while  the  other  rested  against  the 
railing  of  the  balcony  above.  Once  on 
the  table,  the  distance  was  not  greater 
than  from  the  ground  to  the  omnibus 
roof,  and  the  angle  of  inclination  not 
alarmingly  steep. 

"  Mount,  ladies! "  he  cried.  "  Do  not 
be  afraid  ;  it  is  perfectly  safe.  Step 
upon  the  chair,  now  upon  the  table — 
Ah,  bravely  done! " 

When  the  Countess  had  climbed 
nimbly,  the  Baroness  more  heavily  to 
6? 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

the  balcony,  Achille  followed  and  drew 
the  ladder  after  him,  much  to  the  dis 
gust  of  others  who  had  expected  to 
share  in  their  retreat. 

"That  was  a  very  clever  idea!  "ex 
claimed  the  Countess  with  frank 
appreciation,  when  she  had  recovered 
her  breath. 

"  It  is  fortunate  that  we  were  dressed 
for  wheeling,"  remarked  the  Baroness, 
readjusting  her  hat. 

The  confusion  subsided  almost  as 
rapidly  as  it  had  commenced.  Even 
before  the  notes  of  a  trumpet  announced 
the  arrival  of  the  pompiers  the  fire  had 
been  extinguished,  and  with  the  return 
of  order  the  dreaded  animals  could  be 
heard  howling  reassuringly  behind  their 
own  particular  canvas. 

Below    the    landlady    and    the    fat 

waiter  wept  together  over  damages  that 

it  would  take  more  than  one  Pig  Market 

to  make  good,  and  commending   his 

68 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

companions  to  their  tearful  care  Achille 
swung  himself  to  the  ground. 

After  searching  through  all  the  town 
of  Greslin,  but  to  find  that  the  Baroness 
had  been  right,  he  returned  in  despera 
tion  to  a  shed  where  he  had  observed 
an  old-time  diligence,  covered  with 
dust,  and  long  abandoned  to  the 
crickets  and  the  mice.  The  coach, 
which  had  once  been  of  a  brilliant 
yellow,  was  almost  paintless,  and  the 
wooden  sides  had  offered  tempting 
tablets  for  the  picture  writing  of  the 
stable  yard;  the  one  small  window  in 
the  door  was  without  glass,  and  the 
seats  within  were  bare  of  cushions;  it 
was  entered  from  the  end  like  an  omni 
bus,  and,  amid  marine  surroundings, 
might  have  passed  for  an  inferior  order 
of  bathing  machine;  but  the  wheels 
were  strong  enough  for  a  cannon,  and 
the  springs  would  have  sustained  a  load 
of  hay. 

69 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

Next,  as  the  result  of  princely  and 
visible  offers  of  reward,  a  large  white 
horse  was  disentombed  from  the  cellar 
of  the  blacksmith,  where  he  chanced  to 
be  undergoing  treatment  for  some  tri 
fling  defect  of  sight,  then  the  baker's 
wife  remembered  an  old  harness  in  the 
garret;  and  when  from  numerous  appli 
cants  a  lad  had  been  selected  who  was 
pronounced  by  experts  to  be  sufficiently 
sober  to  undertake  the  driving,  Achille 
experienced  the  satisfaction  of  one  who 
has  conquered  circumstances.  Impa 
tient  as  he  had  been  to  close  his  bar 
gain,  and  little  as  he  had  stopped  to 
haggle  over  terms,  before  he  was  at 
last  free  to  return  the  sun  had  set  and 
the  evening  was  drawing  on.  Although 
the  result  of  his  mission  had  not  been 
all  that  he  had  hoped,  he  was  sure  that 
the  ladies  would  believe  that  he  had 
done  his  best,  and  his  only  anxiety  was 
lest  his  long  absence  should  have  caused 
70 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

them  uneasiness.  Once  more  beneath 
the  chestnut  trees,  he  saw  that  order 
again  prevailed  about  the  cafe,  and 
that  before  the  door  guests  were  assem 
bled  as  though  nothing  had  occurred. 
The  ladies  were  still  as  he  had  left  them 
on  the  balcony,  but  the  ladder  rested 
again  upon  the  table,  and  mounted  on 
it  stood  the  fat  waiter  apparently  serv 
ing  an  omelet  across  the  railing. 

"  How  is  this?"  he  demanded  of  the 
landlady.  "  Why  have  you  not  opened 
the  window?" 

"Alas!"  replied  the  good  woman, 
"the  room  within  is  locked,  and  during 
the  excitement,  I  threw  my  keys  into 
the  cistern  to  save  trouble." 

"  Come  up,  Monsieur  DuLorme," 
called  the  Baroness  from  above,  "we 
have  a  cover  for  you  and  a  chair." 

It  was,  to  the  young  man  at  least, 
a  charming  meal  that  the  three  shared, 
sitting  in  a  row  upon  the  narrow  bal- 
71 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

cony,  and  when  Achille  had  slacked  his 
thirst  from  a  bottle  of  good  red  wine, 
he  gave  such  an  account  of  the  dili 
gence  that  the  others  laughed  heartily. 
Under  the  circumstances  formality 
would  have  been  a  farce  and  dignity  an 
affectation. 

Achille  watched  for  an  opportunity 
to  explain  that  he  was  neither  the  ex 
cellent  DuLorme  nor  a  Herald  of  Uni 
versal  Love,  but  the  talk  flowed  in  such 
impersonal  channels  that  it  would  have 
been  a  want  of  tact  to  direct  it  toward 
himself.  Even  the  name  was  not  again 
mentioned. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  Baroness  as 
they  sipped  their  coffee,  "  I  must  tell 
you  that  we  are  in  retreat  at  the  Con 
vent  of  St.  Ives.  We  have,  as  you 
know,  been  robbed,  so  if  you  will 
kindly  pay  for  the  dinner  we  will  send 
you  our  share  of  the  amount  by  the 
driver." 

72 


The    Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

Achilla  made  a  gesture  of  protest, 
but  before  he  could  speak  the  young 
lady,  who  had  suddenly  grown  very  red, 
cried  out  in  consternation: 

"  I  never  thought  about  paying  or 
I  should  not  have  eaten  a  morsel! 
Madame,  Monsieur,  I  have  no  money! 
I  never  have  any  money.  Could  you 
not,  Monsieur,  make  out  a  bill;  I  will 
tell  you  where  to  send  it — and  call  it 
shoes — no,  not  that — I  ate  four  pounds 
of  shoes  last  month!  call  it  gloves, 
two  pairs  of  gloves,  you  can  put  on 
buttons  you  know,  till  they  equal  the 
amount!" 

"Perhaps,"  suggested  the  Baroness, 
"  perhaps  as  the  expense  was  incurred 
through  an  accident  to  your  bicycle, 
it  would  not  be  unjust  if  the  bill  was 
made  out  for  four  pairs  of  gloves!" 

"Of  course,  of  course!"  assented 
the  Countess. 

Achille  bowed  gravely. 
73 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver  Moon 

"The  arrangement  would  be  per 
fectly  satisfactory  to  me,"  he  said,  but 
when  they  had  descended  upon  the  ar 
rival  of  the  diligence,  he  took  occasion 
to  whisper  to  the  Baroness: 

"  Shall  I  divide  the  expense  of  the 
conveyance  equally,  or  will  Madame 
ride  back  on  her  own  wheel?  The 
charge  will  be  twenty  francs  for  each." 

She  did  not  answer  him  directly,  but 
said  aloud  as  the  fat  waiter  brought  the 
bicycle: 

"I  think  I  will  ride  a  little  way,"  and 
mounted. 

"Am  I  to  go  alone  in  this  horri 
ble  packing  case?"  exclaimed  the 
Countess,  almost  in  tears. 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  Achille,  "I 
could  not  permit  that.  The  roads  are 
full  of  intoxicated  peasants,  and  I  have 
little  confidence  in  the  discretion  of  the 
driver.  As  it  happens,  I  have  business 
in  St.  Ives,  and  with  your  permission,  I 
74 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

will  sit  upon  the  box  and  see  you  safely 
to  your  destination." 

"Would  you  mind  coming  inside?" 
asked  the  Countess  timidly,  "it's  awfully 
dark  in  there,  and  I'm  not  used  to 
being  alone  on  such  a  journey." 

"  As  you  please,"  he  assented  with 
great  respect,  "  I  think  on  the  whole 
that  would  be  the  safest  plan." 

"  I'm  sure  I'm  very  much  obliged 
to  you,"  said  the  Countess. 

The  Baroness  returned  and  came  up 
behind,  before  they  left  the  town,  and 
for  a  while  the  three  exchanged  sallies 
through  the  broken  window,  but  when 
they  reached  the  brow  of  the  long  hill 
she  grew  impatient  at  the  slowness 
of  the  pace,  and  elevating  her  neat 
gaiters,  called  out  that  she  would  be 
waiting  at  the  bridge,  and  shot  past 
with  what  the  French  term  "  exagger 
ated  quickness." 

Although  it  was  now  nine  o'clock,  one 
75 


The   Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

might  still  have  read  clear  type  in  the 
June  twilight,  and  even  in  the  dim  inte 
rior  of  the  coach  there  was  light  enough 
to  reveal  the  efforts  that  Achille  had 
made  for  the  comfort  of  his  charge.  A 
strip  of  carpet  was  upon  the  floor,  and 
on  each  of  the  hard  seats  a  feather  pil 
low  incased  in  red  cotton.  He  did  not 
explain  that  these  articles,  once  of  the 
household  of  the  baker's  wife,  were  his 
by  right  of  purchase,  nor  did  she 
attribute  the  presence  of  an  ample 
shawl  to  aught  but  the  forethought  of 
the  driver. 

"  Was  it  not  nice  of  him!  "  exclaimed 
the  Countess.  "  Please  do  not  forget  to 
give  him  a  good  pour  boire  and  put  it  in 
the  bill." 

"  I  shall  not  forget,  Mademoiselle." 

She   wrapped    the  shawl   about   her 

from  head  to   foot,  for  it   had   grown 

chilly,  and  snuggled  comfortably  in  one 

corner,  while  the  young  man  selecting 

76 


The   Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

for  himself  another  as  far  remote  as 
the  limits  of  the  coach  allowed,  waited 
with  respectful  patience  to  discover 
what  her  conception  of  the  situation 
might  be.  He  was  far  too  well  bred — 
from  a  French  point  of  view — to  begin 
a  conversation  that  might  not  be  ac 
ceptable,  and  the  lady  was  presumably 
too  well  bred — from  a  French  point  of 
view — to  take  the  initiative,  so  there 
was  silence  in  the  diligence,  broken 
only  by  the  low  monotonous  creaking 
of  the  leathern  springs  and  the  meas 
ured  beat  of  hoofs  upon  the  smooth 
hard  road. 

Presently  the  Countess  sighed  softly, 
which  sign  Achille,  who  felt  keenly  the 
delicacy  of  her  position,  interpreted  as 
the  expression  of  an  inclination  towards 
slumber,  and  at  once  composed  himself 
to  counterfeit  the  same  desire. 

The  gait  of  the  white  horse,  though 
slow,  was  steady;  the  heavy  vehicle 
77 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

swayed  gently  as  a  boat  upon  a  running 
river;  through  the  broken  window  the 
evening  air  blew  cool  and  heavy  with 
the  fragrance  of  the  fields;  all  about 
was  peace  and  twilight  and  the  hush  of 
nature  sinking  into  sleep.  Near  him, 
so  near  him  in  the  darkness  that  his 
out-stretched  hand  could  have  rested 
upon  her,  was  she  who  in  the  waning  of 
a  day  had  so  filled  his  being  that  it 
seemed  that  all  the  years  before  were 
but  as  idlings  in  the  nursery,  and  life 
was  only  measured  by  one  sun  between 
the  zenith  and  the  west. 

In  the  twilight  one  may  hear  strange 
music,  and  with  the  first  stars  come 
many  things  that  do  not  walk  by  day. 

In  the  twilight  when  youth  and  love 
go  hand  in  hand,  they  come  so  near  the 
dwelling  place  of  their  sweet  sister  who 
is  the  chatelaine  of  the  House  of 
Dreams  that  they  can  hear  her  voice, 
"  The  day  is  done,  abide  with  me." 
78 


V 

"Ciell  .  .  .  Diable!  .  .  .  Mor- 
bleu!  .  .  .  Misericorde!  .  .  ." 
These  words  and  others  expressive  of 
distress  greeted  the  sleepers  when  they 
awoke.  But  it  was  not  the  words 
that  awoke  them.  The  diligence  had 
suddenly  turned  upon  one  end,  and 
through  the  small  window,  now  a  sky 
light,  the  stars  were  twinkling.  It  was 
as  dark  as  an  oven  and  nearly  as  hot, 
and  somewhere  in  the  gloom,  Achille, 
the  lady  and  the  pillows  were  piled  in 
a  conglomerate  heap. 

"  Misericorde  !"  repeated  the  voice 
without,  "  I  suffer,  I  die!  That  villain 
of  a  horse  has  kicked  out  my  brains." 

"What     has      happened?"    shouted 
Achille,  when  he  had  freed  his  mouth 
from  a  corner  of  the  carpet. 
79 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  My  legs  are  broken,  my  ribs  are 
crushed  and  I  am  dying!"  replied  a  lusty 
voice  now  readily  recognizable  as  that 
of  the  driver. 

"  Come  here  at  once  and  help  us  out," 
called  back  Achille  unfeelingly.  Natu 
rally  his  first  thought  had  been  for  the 
safety  of  the  Countess,  but  the  sound  of 
smothered  laughter  in  the  darkness  had 
at  once  reassured  him  and  his  anxious 
inquiries  were  prompted  rather  by  civil 
ity  than  alarm. 

"  I  am  not  hurt  at  all,"  she  answered, 
"  but  I  am  standing  on  my  head,  and 
there  is  something  heavy  on  my  shoul 
der,  I  think  it  is  your  foot." 

When  after  much  cautious  wriggling, 
Achille  was  at  last  free  to  stand  up  and 
thrust  his  head  from  the  door,  a  glance 
explained  the  situation.  The  forward 
running  gear  had  in  some  way  become 
detached  from  its  fastening,  allowing 
the  body  of  the  coach  to  drop  to  the 
80 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

road  at  one  end,  while  the  other  still 
firm  upon  the  high  back  wheels,  pointed 
skyward  at  so  great  an  angle  that  the 
floor  was  practically  perpendicular. 
Nearby  the  white  horse  dragging  the 
missing  wheels  grazed  peacefully,  and 
nearer  still  the  driver  lay  upon  his  back 
and  howled. 

"What  has  happened  to  the  horse?" 
Achille  demanded. 

"  Nothing!" 

"  Well,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?" 

"  My  lungs  are  punctured!" 

"Bah!  do  you  think  yourself  a  bicy 
cle?  What  has  happened  to  the  car 
riage  ?  " 

"  I  care  not  what  has  happened  to 
that  infam}',  it  is  sufficient  that  it  has 
caused  my  death." 

As  he  spoke  the  driver  rolled  over 
and  over  until  he  was  thoroughly  pow 
dered  with  white  dust.  Then  he  rose 
upon  all  fours;  then,  with  many  groans, 
81 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

he  knelt;  and  finally,  after  cautiously 
testing  every  bone  before  depending  on 
its  strength,  stood  upon  his  feet. 

"You  are  not  dead,"  said  the  prisoner 
encouragingly.  "  Can  you  not  see  that 
you  are  not  even  seriously  hurt?  Come 
now,  and  help  me." 

"  There  are  injuries,"  returned  the 
young  man  mournfully,  "that  do  not 
show  upon  the  surface.  Does  Monsieur 
desire  to  come  out?" 

Meanwhile  the  lady,  by  the  aid  of  an 
ingeniously  constructed  pedestal  of  pil 
lows,  had  succeeded  in  bringing  her 
head  above  the  level  of  the  opening 
and  now  stood  close  to  Achille  com 
posedly  viewing  the  scene. 

"Ask  him  where  we  are,"  she  sug 
gested,  and  Achille  did  so. 

"How  should  I  know?"  replied  the 
driver  scornfully.  "  I  have  never  before 
been  in  this  miserable  country." 

"Where  is  the  other  lady?" 
82 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  She  is  where  her  machine  has  car 
ried  her.  My  horse  is  not  an  express 
train  to  overtake  her." 

"  But  was  she  not  at  the  bridge  ?" 

"  I  have  seen  no  bridge." 

"  Surely  we  have  come  as  far  as  the 
River  Loup!" 

"  The  River  Loup  ?  That  is  upon  the 
road  to  St.  Ives.  We  left  that  long 
before  the  bridge." 

"Ciel!'  Where  does  this  road  lead 
to?" 

"  I  had  hoped,"  replied  the  youth 
cheerfully,  "  that  it  would  lead  to 
Tives  but  it  appears  that  it  leads  no 
where." 

"Tives!"  shouted  Achille  and  the  lady 
in  one  breath,  "  Tives! " 

"Why  not?"  asked  the  driver  shrug 
ging  his  shoulders. 

"Why,  in  the  name  of  goodness, 
should  we  want  to  go  to  Tives?"  de 
manded  Achille. 

83 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

"That  is  the  affair  of  Monsieur,"  re 
plied  the  lad  respectfully. 

"  But  did  I  not  explain  to  you  fully 
» 

"  Monsieur  explained  nothing  to  me. 
It  was  to  my  cousin  that  Monsieur  ex 
plained,  but  at  the  last  moment  he  re 
ceived  news  of  the  illness  of  his  god 
parent,  and  was  so  much  overcome  that 

I " 

"  Imbecile,  where  is  this  Tives?  " 
"  I  do  not  know,  Monsieur." 
Further  discussion  was  prevented  by 
the  appearance  of  two  peasants,  who 
approached  from  the  darkness,  armed 
one  with  a  scythe  of  formidable  dimen 
sions  and   the  other    with   a  wooden 
pitchfork,  and  halting  at  a  safe  distance 
from  the  upturned    carriage   inquired 
the  cause  of  the  disturbance. 

Achille,  who  knew  the  country  peo 
ple,  wasted  no  words  in  explanation, 
but  promptly  offered  each  a  franc  if 
84 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver  Moon 

they  would  lift  the  coach  and  hold  it 
horizontal  for  a  single  minute. 

"And  now,  my  man,"  said  Achille,  ad 
dressing  the  elder  of  the  peasants,  as 
soon  as  the  travelers  felt  the  ground 
beneath  their  feet,  "will  you  kindly  tell 
me  where  we  are  ? " 

As  he  answered,  the  man  spread  his 
hands,  palms  upward,  and  looked  about 
him. 

"  This  is  not  a  city  to  have  a  name," 
he  said. 

"Are  there  no  houses  near  ?" 

"  Yes,  there  are  the  huts  of  the  sabot 
makers,  and  there  is  the  house  of  my 
son." 

"  Surely  you  must  know  where  you 
live." 

"Oh  yes,  Monsieur,  I  know  well  where 
I  live.  I  live  at  the  house  of  my 
son." 

"Are  there  no  women?"  asked  the 
Countess,  adding  in  a  low  voice  to  her 
85 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver  Moon 

companion,  "Let  us  find  a  woman,  they 
are  much  less  stupid  than  the  men." 

"  Certainly  there  are  women,"  replied 
the  peasant;  "there  is  the  wife  of  my 
son,  and  there  is  my  wife,  and  there  is 
the  grandmother  of  my  son's  wife,  and 
there  is  the  niece  of  my  wife,  and  there 
is " 

"  Please  show  us  where  they  are,"  in 
terrupted  the  lady. 

The  peasants  turned  obediently,  but 
as  they  moved  away  the  driver  pro 
tested. 

"Will  no  one  help  me?"  he  pleaded 
piteously,  and  the  younger  peasant 
being  promised  another  franc  remained 
behind. 

The  country  on  every  side  seemed, 
even  in  the  charitable  starlight,  both 
barren  and  desolate.  Gorse  and  furze 
grew  in  disorderly  tangles  upon  the 
crumbling  walls  of  turf  along  the  road, 
and  the  fields  beyond  were  stony  and 
86 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

uncultivated.  The  place  was  unfamiliar 
to  Achille,  but  he  supposed  it  to  be  a 
part  of  the  region  called  Purgatory, 
which  lies  at  the  outskirt  of  the  State 
Forest.  Here  every  thirty  years  the 
hills  are  shorn  of  timber,  and  then 
the  trees  are  coaxed  to  grow  again 
that  posterity  may  keep  the  pot  a-boil 
ing. 

The  peasant  trudged  ahead  in  silence, 
the  travelers  following  side  by  side. 
The  Countess  wore  the  shawl  about 
her  shoulders,  and  when  Achille  remind 
ed  her  that  she  had  left  her  hat  in  the 
coach,  and  offered  to  return  for  it,  she 
laughed  and  said  it  did  not  matter,  and 
readjusted  her  drapery  in  the  form  of  a 
hood.  He  could  recall  none  of  his  com 
rades  who  would  have  met  the  catas 
trophe  with  less  agitation,  and  in  the 
face  of  her  composure  the  young  man 
felt  that  any  effort  at  consolation  would 
be  misdirected.  Her  manner  of  meet- 
87 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

ing  the  inevitable  but  added  to  his  ad 
miration  and  esteem,  though  this  would 
have  been  equally  true  of  any  other 
manner  that  she  might  have  elected  to 
adopt. 

Presently  the  silhouette  of  a  wood 
rose  against  the  sky,  and  when  shortly 
afterwards  they  entered  the  shadow, 
the  smell  of  timber  newly  cut  announced 
the  nearness  of  the  sabot  makers'  camp 
of  which  the  guide  had  spoken.  A  few 
steps  more  brought  them  to  the  centre 
of  a  circle  of  small  huts  of  boughs  and 
leaves,  broken  on  one  side  by  the  larger 
outline  of  a  shelter  of  the  same  primi 
tive  construction,which  heaped  up  chips 
and  rude  machinery  marked  as  a  work 
shop,  and  on  the  other  by  a  long,  low 
cottage  surmounted  by  a  sagging  roof 
of  thatch.  A  light  shone  from  the  four- 
paned  window  of  the  cottage,  and  when 
the  sound  of  feet  upon  the  dry  leaves 
and  twigs  announced  their  coming,  the 
88 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

door  opened  and  a  belt  of  light  shot  out 
across  the  rough  uneven  ground. 

As  the  door  opened,  the  man  stood 
still  and  called — 

"  Babette,  come  here!" 

Then  as  if  in  apology  for  his  seeming 
lack  of  hospitality,  he  added — 

"  Perhaps  Madame  would  not  desire 
to  enter — we  are  occupied  in  skinning  a 
cow." 

"  I  should  think,"  commented  the 
Countess,  "  that  you  would  have  pre 
ferred  to  do  that  in  the  forest." 

"  It  would  have  been  better  for  a 
thousand  reasons,"  assented  the  man, 
"  but  she  was  too  large  to  pass  through 
the  door." 

"  How  did  she  ever  get  in  ?"  inquired 
Achilla. 

"  As  a  calf,"  replied  the  peasant  sim- 

ply- 

Babette,  when  she  came  forth  wiping 
her  hands  upon  a  burlap  apron,  expressed 
89 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

interest,  if  not  sympathy,  in  the  mis 
fortunes  of  the  travelers,  and  glancing 
at  the  Countess  she  exclaimed — 

"Saints  in  Heaven!  it  must  have 
been  terrible,  Madame  has  lost  her  pet 
ticoat!  and  doubtless,  too,  she  had  a 
hat." 

Babette  knew  the  names  of  several 
hamlets  at  varying  distances  from  the 
camp  of  the  sabot  makers,  none  of  which 
were  at  all  familiar  to  Achille.  When 
asked  if  she  had  heard  of  Greslin  she 
admitted  that  she  had,  and  supposed  it 
to  be  across  the  hills,  very  far  away— 
perhaps  twenty  kilos.  Tives  was  some 
where  to  the  south  on  quite  another 
road,  that  is  if  it  were  anywhere,  which 
she  greatly  doubted.  Oh  la,  la!  it  was 
a  shame  that  such  things  should  happen. 
Perhaps  when  the  driver  came  he  would 
have  some  practical  suggestions  to 
make.  Monsieur  and  Madame  must 
excuse  her  appearance!  it  was  not  an 
90 


The    Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

easy  thing  to  skin  a  cow,  and  the  opera 
tion  takes  much  longer  than  one  would 
suppose. 

The  mention  of  time  prompted 
Achille  to  look  at  his  watch,  and  when  he 
held  it  to  the  light  of  the  open  door  he 
saw  that  it  was  half-past  twelve  o'clock. 
Even  making  the  most  unflattering  al 
lowance  for  the  speed  of  the  white 
horse,  they  must  have  traveled  twenty 
kilos. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  he,  turning  to 
the  Countess,  "  I  must  tell  you  that  we 
have  strayed  much  farther  than  I  sup 
posed,  and  that  it  is  now  past  midnight. 
My  unfortunate  nap  has  not  only  put 
you  to  this  inconvenience,  but  will,  I 
fear,  be  the  cause  of  the  greatest  an 
xiety  to  your  friends." 

"  I  beg  that  Monsieur  will  give  him 
self  no  uneasiness  on  that  account,"  re 
plied  the  lady  graciously,"  I  have  reason 
to  believe  that  the  good  Sisters  would 
91 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

not  be  sorry  to  dispense  with  my  society 
altogether." 

"  But  your  friend,  the  Baroness  ?" 

"I  do  not  so  much  as  know  her  name." 

11  Mother,"  called  a  voice  within  the 
cottage,  "  shall  we  cut  off  the  tail  ?" 

"  That  will  be  for  to-morrow,"  replied 
Babette.  "Wash  thy  hands,  we  will  go 
to  bed  as  soon  as  it  shall  please  these 
good  folks  to  leave  us." 

A  voice  sounded  through  the  woods 
and  a  moment  later  the  young  peasant 
who  had  borne  the  pitchfork  appeared 
singing  lustily.  When  he  drew  near  he 
stopped  singing  and  laughed  heartily. 

"  It  was  a  good  joke  on  that  driver!" 
he  chuckled.  "Would  you  believe  me, 
nothing  was  broken!  A  hook  had 
worked  loose,  and  we  had  only  to  put 
the  two  parts  together,  and  there  was 
his  machine  as  strong  as  new." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Achille,  "where 
is  he  now  ?  " 

92 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  He  has  gone  home." 

"  Gone  where  ?" 

"  Home,  I  suppose.  He  turned  and 
went  in  the  direction  from  which  he 
came  at  a  gallop.  But  doubtless,"  he 
added  hopefully,  seeing  that  his  intelli 
gence  was  unwelcome,  "doubtless  he 
will  return." 

"  If  we  can  be  of  no  further  service  to 
Monsieur  and  Madame/'  said  Babette, 
with  cold  politeness,  "we  would  ask  per 
mission  to  retire.  The  poor  must  sleep 
if  they  are  to  do  their  work.  A  plaisir, 
Monsieur et  dame" 

"  Stop! "  cried  Achille,  "we  must  have 
a  conveyance  of  some  sort.  I  have 
plenty  of  money." 

"  Monsieur  is  fortunate,  but  if  he 
were  to  pay  me  a  million  francs  I  could 
not  create  a  horse.  I  am  sorry,  but  we 
are  poor  and  have  nothing  to  offer." 

"  But,  if  you  refuse  to  help  us,  what 
are  we  to  do  ? " 

93 


The    Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  There  is  always  the  Inn  of  the  Silver 
Moon,"  laughed  Babette,  adding  with 
withering  sarcasm,  "  if  /  were  rich  I 
would  buy  a  ticket  and  take  a  seat  in  the 
railway  train  like  a  general." 

"The  railway!  Where  is  it?  Are 
there  trains  to-night  ?" 

"  The  station  is  not  far;  you  cannot 
miss  it,  for  there  is  a  gate  across  the 
road.  The  trains  pass  when  God  wills, 
I  do  not  trouble  myself  with  such  mat 
ters." 

"  Good  night,  and  thank  you  for  lit 
tle!"  cried  Achille,  losing  his  patience. 
"Come  Mademoiselle,  there  is  nothing 
to  be  gained  from  these  idiots." 

"  Good  night  to  you  for  a  pair  of 
vagabonds,  who  will  end  in  the  galleys!" 
replied  Babette,  and  as  they  left  the 
grove  she  called  after  them  many  things 
that  he  hoped  the  Countess  did  not  un 
derstand. 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  Achille  humbly, 
94 


The   Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

when  they  were  once  more  upon  the 
road,  "  I  can  never  hope  to  be  forgiven 
for  my  carelessness  in  going  to  sleep, 
but  I  trust  you  understand  that  when  I 
have  succeeded  in  restoring  you  to  your 
friends,  my  one  thought  will  be  to  efface 
myself  so  completely  from  your  life  that 
you  will  be  able  to  account  for  your  ab 
sence  in  any  way  that  may  seem  credi 
ble.  Meanwhile  1  am  your  slave." 

"  Of  course,"  replied  the  Countess 
lightly,  "  but  how  fortunate  we  were  to 
learn  about  the  railway.  It  was  a  good 
idea  of  mine  to  see  the  woman,  they 
are  always  so  much  more  clever  than 
men." 

If  it  occurred  to  Achille  that  it  was 
through  making  the  acquaintance  of 
Babette  they  had  lost  the  diligence, 
he  put  the  thought  from  him  as  un 
worthy.  Neither  did  he  feel  himself  in 
a  position  to  debate  the  relative  clever 
ness  of  the  sexes.  He  could  have 
95 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

wished,  too,  that  the  idea  of  his  own 
annihilation  had  not  been  accepted 
quite  so  calmly.  Nevertheless,  when 
they  reached  the  highway  he  said, 
cheerfully: 

"At  least  we  know  the  direction  not 
to  take,"  and  they  turned  toward  the 
unknown. 

The  way  led  through  a  part  of  the. 
wood,  where  the  axe  had  not  fallen 
since  the  days  when  the  king  wore 
green  velvet  to  deceive  the  deer.  The 
trees  stood  far  apart,  wonderful  oaks 
and  beeches  that  had  come  to  honora 
ble  age  untrammeled  by  the  rabble  of 
the  thicket,  and  beneath,  the  fern  and 
bracken  grew  waist  deep.  In  the  open 
spaces  were  stretches  of  soft  turf, 
smooth  as  bowling  courts,  and  beds  of 
tufted  heather  just  purpling  into  blos 
som,  through  which  the  white  road 
shone  dimly  like  a  path  of  phosphorus 
The  air  was  sweet  with  faint  aromatic 
96 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

odors;  the  wood  still  as  a  cathedral, 
and  as  filled  with  silent  prayer.  Once 
they  passed  close  to  a  little  tarn  of 
water  teeming  with  stars.  Once  they 
went  beneath  an  arch  of  whispering 
pines. 

It  was  only  a  corner  of  the  forest, 
and  soon  they  saw  again  the  desolate 
upland,  and  beyond,  a  wide  expanse  of 
dark  mysterious  country  to  which  the 
road  descended  rapidly.  Here  they 
stood  for  a  moment  looking  back. 

"  Is  it  not  beautiful! "  she  said.  "  See 
the  moon  is  coming  up  behind  the 
trees.  Could  we  not  sit  down  and  wait 
till  morning?  I  am  very  tired." 

"  I  have  read,"  said  the  young  man 
softly,  "  that  once,  while  hunting,  the 
Duchess  Anne  rode  so  far  from  her 
company  that  she  lost  her  way,  and, 
attended  only  by  one  faithful  lackey, 
slept  ail  night  upon  a  bed  of  fern  here 
in  the  forest." 

97 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  Poor  thing,"  sighed  the  Countess 
"  I  do  not  suppose  she  had  even  a 
shawl!" 


98 


VI 

The  Countess  rested  well,  as  doubt 
less  did  the  Duchess  Anne  before  her, 
and  perhaps  it  was  above  the  same  mir 
ror  that  each  bent  in  the  early  dawn  to 
smooth  her  hair,  and  bathe  her  face  in 
the  cool  water. 

Achille  had  kept  a  solitary  watch, 
but  he  was  very  happy.  When  it  was 
light  enough,  while  still  the  lady  slept, 
he  had  carved  an  arrowhead  upon 
the  bark  of  a  beech  tree,  saying  to  him 
self: 

"  Uncas,  my  friend,  after  all  you  were 
not  the  last."  He  even  thought  pleas 
antly  of  Chin-gach-gook. 

There  were  drops  of  water  on  her 
hair,  and  mimic  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she 
came  back  to  him  from  the  lake.  She 
99 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

had  gathered  sprigs  of  early  heather 
and  wore  them  at  her  throat,  and  her 
shawl  fell  about  her  like  Rosalind's 
doublet. 

"  Come,"  he  said  laughing,  "  we  must 
take  the  road,  for  we  cannot  expect  the 
fairies  to  provide  our  breakfast." 

"Anything  may  happen,"  she  replied, 
as  they  left  the  wood,  "  anything,  even 
that." ' 

A  few  minutes  later  she  said  again: 

"Was  I  not  right?"  and  even  as  she 
spoke  there  came  upon  the  air  the  un 
mistakable  smell  of  newly  made  coffee. 

They  had  been  moving  rapidly  down 
the  hill,  and  now  a  turn  in  the  road 
brought  them  suddenly  upon  a  large 
green  van  drawn  close  against  the 
hedge  Across  the  van  was  painted  in 
white  letters,  "  Pol  Paret,  General  Mer 
chandise,"  and  beneath  the  inscription 
sat  a  moon-faced  person  upon  a  box 
brewing  coffee  in  a  copper  pot  above  a 

100 


The    Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

charcoal  brasier.  Beside  him  on  the 
ground  lay  an  earthen  dish  containing 
butter  and  a  loaf  of  tempting  bread. 

"Good  morning,  mates!"  called  Pol 
Paret  without  moving,  "you  are  up 
early." 

"  No  earlier  for  us  than  for  others," 
replied  Achille. 

"  You'd  call  it  late  if  you  had  been  up 
all  night  as  I  have!  Where  are  you 
from?" 

"From  the  Pig  Market." 

"  But  you  cannot  have  come  from 
Greslin!" 

"  So  you  say." 

"On  foot!" 

"So  you  see." 

The  man  whistled  in  surprise. 

"  Oh  la,  la,  it's  a  shame  to  make 
a  boy  like  that  walk  such  a  distance!  " 

'  Yes,  poor  little  fellow,  he  is  tired," 
assented  Achille  readily,  "both  tired 
and  hungry,  I  fear,  and  I  must  tell  you 

JOI 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

my  nephew  is  deaf  and  dumb.  That 
coffee  of  yours  smells  good." 

"  It  ought  to,  it  cost  two  francs  the 
livre.  What  are  you  doing  to  the 
boy?" 

Achille  with  his  hands  close  to  the 
opening  in  the  shawl,  that  his  afflicted 
kinsman  had  wrapped  about  his  head, 
made  gestures  with  his  finger  which 
might  seem  to  those  unfamiliar  with  the 
sign  language  to  have  a  sinister  signifi 
cance. 

"  I  am  explaining  to  him,"  he  an 
swered,  "  that  you  will  no  doubt  allow 
us  to  purchase  some  coffee  and  a  piece 
of  bread.  I  am  telling  him  that  we 
have  money  to  pay  for  it,  and  that  his 
mother  would  be  displeased  if  he  did 
not  eat;  I  am  also  telling  him  to  go  and 
sit  under  that  tree  and  that  I  will  bring 
him  his  breakfast. " 

"  It  is  really  wonderful  how  you  can 
do  it,"  commented  Pol  Paret,  greatly 

IC2 


The   Inn  of   the   Silver   Moon 

interested;  "but  why  do  you  send  him 
away?" 

"He  is  very  timid,  they  are  all  like 
that." 

"Are  they?"  said  Pol  Paret. 

The  Countess  drank  her  coffee  with 
her  back  turned  to  them,  while  Achille 
encouraged  his  host  to  tell  of  the 
cast  shoe  that  had  delayed  him  on 
his  way  to  the  fair,  and  himself  gave  an 
account  of  the  fire  in  the  waxwork 
booth. 

The  merchant  assured  him  that  the 
station  was  but  a  few  steps  further  on, 
and  begged  him  to  stay  while  he  asked 
many  questions  about  the  folk  at  the 
fair  whom  he  had  often  met.  He  said 
that  Mother  Rehan  could  afford  to  lose 
one  or  two  figures,  and  that  her  Jeanne 
d'Arc  had  been  Esmeralda  before  the 
cultus  of  the  new  saint  had  grown  so 
popular;  for  himself,  he  did  not  approve 
of  such  dishonesty.  He  said  the  Lion 
103 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

Tamer  was  afraid  of  his  wife,  and  that 
he  had  known  the  Wild  Man  of  Borneo 
when  he  was  a  barber.  As  they  parted, 
he  produced  from  his  stock  of  general 
merchandise  a  cravat  of  brilliant 
scarlet. 

"  This  is  for  your  nephew,"  he  said. 
"  There  is  a  spot  on  one  end,  but  you 
can  tie  it  so  that  it  will  not  show.  I  am 
sorry  that  he  is  so  afraid  of  old  Paret." 

From  a  safe  distance,  the  Countess 
held  up  the  bit  of  flaming  silk  and  threw 
a  kiss  back  at  the  merchant,  and  he 
waved  a  fat  good  bye.  Then,  they 
broke  into  a  run,  for  the  train  was 
already  nearing  the  station,  and  the 
final  "  En  voiture,  s'il  vous  plait,"  was 
being  called  as  they  climbed  breathless 
into  the  third-class  carriage  that  the 
Countess  had  insisted  they  should  take. 

There  was  but  one  other  passenger 
in  the  compartment,  a  young  country 
girl,  who  held  a  bird  cage  on  her  knees, 
104 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

and  sat  with  her  eyes  protectingly 
fastened  upon  a  large  black  basket  on 
the  seat  before  her.  Her  appearance 
was  reassuringly  commonplace,  but  no 
sooner  was  the  door  slammed  than  she 
sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  cry  of  delight 
and  clasped  the  Countess  in  her  arms. 

Eager  explanations  followed,  to 
which  the  young  man  was  careful  not  to 
listen,  and  sinking  into  a  corner  he 
feigned  an  interest  in  the  passing  land 
scape,  till  suddenly  the  Countess  turn 
ing  to  him,  said: 

"  Please  put  your  head  out  of  the 
window,  and  keep  it  there  till  you  feel 
yourself  pinched." 

Achille  did  as  he  was  told,  keeping 
his  face  toward  the  locomotive  till  his 
eyes  were  filled  with  cinders,  and  then 
in  the  opposite  direction  till  the  air 
upon  his  neck  made  him  sneeze.  He 
had  suspended  thought  as  far  as  the 
actions  of  the  Countess  were  concerned, 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

and,  as  he  watched  the  leisurely  flow  of 
ties  and  bolts  beside  the  omnibus  train, 
he  speculated  only  upon  what  would 
happen  should  he  reach  the  next 
station  unpinched.  But  his  anxiety 
was  unnecessary,  for,  just  as  the  speed 
began  to  slacken,  he  felt  upon  his  arm 
the  clasp  of  two  soft  fingers,  and  meanly 
allowed  the  signal  to  be  repeated  before 
responding. 

When  he  put  his  head  out  of  the 
window  there  had  been  with  him  a 
peasant  maiden,  and  another  who  had 
passed  for  his  nephew.  Now  there  were 
two  peasant  maidens  and  the  boy  had 
gone.  Rosalind  had  gone — the  Duchess 
Anne  had  gone. 

"Mademoiselle!!"  began  Achille,  in 

wild    consternation,   but   the    sentence 

ended  in  a  fit  of  uncontrolled  laughter. 

The  Countess  blushed  and  laughed 

also,    and    the    real    peasant    laughed 

loudest  of  all.    Then  the  train  stopped 

106 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

and  the  owner  of  the  black  basket,  hav 
ing  kissed  the  Countess  again,  de 
scended  and  Achille  handed  her  the 
bird  cage. 

"Give  me  a  gold  piece,  please,"  said 
the  Countess,  and  when  he  had  hastened 
to  obey  she  threw  it  to  the  peasant  girl, 
saying: 

"That  is  for  the  little  Jules; "  then  to 
Achille  she  added.  "  Put  twenty  francs 
on  the  bill." 

"Gloves?"  asked  Achille. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  thoughtfully, 
"  Dress  material." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Achille,  respect 
fully. 

Other  passengers  entered — a  priest,  a 
soldier,  a  woman  with  a  hen,  and  a  man 
with  a  basket  of  eels — and  the  two  sat 
close  together  and  spoke  in  confidential 
undertones. 

"Where  are  we  going  now?"  asked 
the  Countess,  smoothing  her  apron. 
107 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  I  haven't  an  idea,"  replied  Achille, 
as  he  produced  the  tickets.  "  I  took 
passage  to  the  end  of  the  line,  which  is 
a  branch.  The  place  is  about  two 
hours  from  where  we  started,  but  my 
plan  is  to  get  out  at  the  first  town  of 
importance,  where  we  will  be  sure  to 
find  a  carriage,  for  we  must  still  be 
within  driving  distance  of  ... 
Achille  paused,  embarrassed,  and 
added,  "  Pardon  me,  but  I  have  not 
asked  where  you  want  to  go." 

"  I  think,"  replied  the  Countess, 
thoughtfully,  "  that  for  many  reasons  it 
would  be  better  for  me  to  go  to 
Paris." 

"  Quite  so,"  assented  Achille,  readily, 
but  his  composure  cost  him  an  effort. 

"  But  I  am  in  no  hurry,"  continued 
the  lady,  looking  down  at  her  dress. 
"  Now  that  I  have  this,  a  day  or  even 
longer,  would  make  no  difference." 

"Quite  so,"  said  Achille  again,  step- 
108 


The    Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

ping  on  his  own  toe  to  make  sure  that  he 
was  awake.  "  I  think  we  are  coming  to 
a  large  town,  and  it  might  be  well  to 
stop." 

"  I  should  like  an  omelet  for  my 
breakfast,"  said  the  Countess, "  and  you 
must  buy  a  new  cap — that  one  is  insuf 
ferable — and  a  new  blouse.  Then  we 
can  pass  for  respectable  peasants — 
brother  and  sister." 

"St.  Juste!  Vingt  minutes  d'arret!" 
called  the  guard,  and  the  train  emptied 
itself  of  hungry  passengers,  who 
crowded  toward  the  buffet — all  save 
two  respectable  peasants,  brother  and 
sister,  who  quickly  left  the  platform, 
and  disappeared  into  the  town. 


109 


VII 

An  hour  later,  when  they  had  break 
fasted  at  the  Black  Eagle,  and  ex 
hausted  the  shop  windows  about  the 
market  place,  they  entered  an  old 
church  and  the  Countess  offered  Achille 
a  drop  of  holy  water  on  the  end  of  her 
finger.  Then  they  admired  the  win 
dows  and  wandered  leisurely  from 
chapel  to  chapel,  and  he  told  her  which 
parts  of  the  edifice  were  Norman  and 
which  later  Gothic,  and  pointed  out  the 
alterations  of  the  Period  of  the 
Renaissance,  and  she  listened  and  asked 
questions,  and  together  they  found 
wonderful  old  figures  and  bits  of  carv 
ing,  and  bribed  the  sacristan  to  show 
them  the  vestments  and  jewels;  and 
the  bells  rang  for  ten  o'clock  before 
in 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

they  remembered  that  they  had  forgot 
ten  the  conveyance. 

"  Before  we  go,"  said  the  Countess, 
"  we  must  light  two  candles  for  St. 
Anthony  of  Padua." 

"  Why  for  him?"  asked  Achilla. 

"  He  has  a  special  care  for  lost 
articles,"  she  answered. 

They  bought  their  tall  candles  from 
an  old  crone  dozing  in  a  corner,  and  set 
them  on  the  spikes  of  the  candlestick 
where  other  votives  burnt;  and  as  the 
girl  knelt  in  the  soft  light  beneath,  the 
young  man  stood  behind  her,  and  look 
ing  up  at  the  kind  old  Saint,  assured 
him  privately  that  the  matter  was  not 
pressing. 

The  day  had  grown  warm,  and  when 
they  left  the  church  they  strolled  into 
the  small  botanical  garden  which  is  the 
chief  ornament  of  St.  Juste,  and  sat 
upon  a  bench  beside  the  fountain.  The 
place  at  this  hour  was  occupied  only  by 

112 


The   Inn   of   the^  Silver   Moon 

an  elderly  gentleman  who  read  his 
paper  on  a  distant  seat,  and  some 
nursemaids  on  the  other  side  of  the 
basin  gossiping  together  while  their 
charges  played  about  them. 

"  It  will  be  pleasanter  driving  when 
the  afternoon  grows  cool,"  said  Achille. 

"Much  pleasanter,"  assented  the 
Countess.  "  Do  you  know,  this  garden 
reminds  me  so  much  of  the  convent  ? 
Have  you  ever  been  in  a  convent?  " 

"  Only  in  an  extinct  convent,  I  have 
never  seen  one  in  active  operation." 

"  I  suppose  not.  Well,  there  is  a 
broad  path  like  this  in  the  middle  of  the 
garden  where  the  girls  walk  up  and 
down,  but  there  are  statues  of  saints 
along  the  side  and  whenever  you  come 
to  one  you  must  say  a  prayer  and  think 
how  bad  you  are!  It  is  nothing  but  a 
long  rosary." 

"  But  suppose  that  you  are  not  at  all 
bad  ? " 

"3 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  You  can't  help  being  bad  where 
everything  you  can  possibly  do  is  wrong. 
There  is  another  path  around  the  gar 
den  near  the  wall,  but  only  the  Sisters 
are  allowed  there;  they  are  afraid  that 
people  will  throw  notes  over  the  wall." 

"Notes?" 

''  Yes,  letters,  but  of  course  nobody 
does." 

"Of  course  not." 

"  It  is  so  much  simpler  to  have  them 
directed  to  the  cook,  and  then  they  are 
brought  up  with  your  coffee." 

"  That  cook  should  be  discharged," 
said  Achille  firmly. 

"Oh  no,  indeed!  if  it  had  not  been 
for  a  cook  I  should  never  have  had  a 
book  to  read." 

"  Were  there  no  books  in  the  con 
vent?" 

"  Not  the  kind  I  mean.  I  think,  Mon 
sieur  DuLorme,  I  ought  to  tell  you 
something  that  I  fear  will  lower  me  in 
114 


The   Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

your  estimation.  Listen,  please,  and  do 
not  interrupt  till  I  have  made  my  con 
fession.  Two  years  ago  I  happened  to 
overhear  the  Mother  Superior  severely 
condemning  a  writer  and  his  books. 
Naturally  I  desired  nothing  in  the  world 
so  much  as  to  read  those  books,  and 
naturally  I  read  them — thanks  to  the 
cook.  It  was  wrong,  but  I  did.  They 
were  written  by  a  foreigner — an  Amer 
ican — one  William  Dean  Howells;  a 
wicked  and  dangerous  man.  It  was  his 
fiendish  object  to  depict  the  world,  not 
of  course  as  it  is,  filled  with  dangers 
and  pitfalls,  but  instead  as  peopled  with 
kind  and  generous  men  and  women 
who  would  not  hurt  one  if  they  could. 
"  The  girls  of  whom  he  wrote  could 
speak  to  perfect  strangers  and  meet  with 
nothing  but  respect  and  courtesy.  He 
made  light  of  the  perils  that  beset 
women  who  stray  from  the  path  of 
convention.  He  did  not  argue  against 
i  is 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

restraints:  he  ignored  them.  Like  the 
snake  in  Eden,  he  held  out  the  apple 
saying:  'Eat  and  know,  thou  shalt  not 
surely  die.' 

"  I  know  that  this  is  false  and  wrong, 
or  why  should  those  who  are  wiser  than 
I  take  so  much  trouble  to  teach  me  that 
it  is  ?  But  having  once  tasted  the 
intoxication  of  freedom,  I  fear  that  I 
shall  never  again  like  the  watered  wine 
of  conventional  restraint.  I  feel  that 
the  insidious  poison  of  confidence  in 
mankind  has  entered  my  blood,  and 
that  I  shall  never  know  again  the  sweet 
suspicion  and  mistrust  of  my  earlier 
years.  Monsieur,  I  have  lost  my  belief 
in  universal  depravity." 

The  Countess  paused,  and  Achille 
said  cautiously — 

"  I  have  read  the  works  of  this  Mon 
sieur  Howells,  and,  believe  me,  I  have 
not  found  them  as  bad  as  you  have 
pictured  them." 

116 


The    Inn   of   the    Silver   Moon 

"  Have  you  read  'The  Lady  of  the 
Aroostook'  ? " 

"  I  have,  and  although  the  startling 
exploits  of  that  extraordinary  young 
person  in  crossing  the  world  without  a 
chaperon  shocked  me  at  the  time,  I 
must  own  that  I  have  since  thought  that 
I  should  like  to  know  her." 

"  It  is  only  your  kindness  of  heart. 
Monsieur,  that  prompts  you  to  comfort 
me." 

"  Not  altogether,"  said  the  young 
man  seriously,  "  for  I  have  a  confession 
to  make  also.  In  my  boyhood  I  fell  a 
victim  to  the  American  romance;  I  read 
the  writings  of  Monsieur  Cooper,  and 
since  then  my  life  has  been  duplex.  I 
have  outwardly  accepted  the  standards 
of  my  station,  while  inwardly  chafing 
beneath  its  limitations.  Mademoiselle, 
may  I  venture  the  hope  that  I  have  at 
last  met  one  who  can  understand  that 
beneath  the  exterior  of  a  provincial 
117 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

rentier  may  lurk  the  spirit  of  Uncas,  the 
Last  of  the  Mohicans  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  of  Monsieur  Uncas," 
sighed  the  Countess,  "  but  tell  me,  and 
tell  me  truly,  would  he  have  despised 
the  Lady  of  the  Aroostook  ?  " 

"He  would  have  adored  her,  he  would 
have  worshiped  her!"  cried  Achille 
with  ardor,  at  the  same  time  making  a 
movement  to  capture  the  hand  that 
chanced  to  rest  near  his  own. 

"  Do  you  think,"  said  the  lady,  with 
drawing  her  hand,  "  that  he  would  have 
told  her  so  until  she  was  in  the  wigwam 
of  her  people  ?" 

"  No,"  answered  the  young  man  sit 
ting  erect,  "  that  would  have  been  the 
act  of  an  inferior  savage." 

"Have  you  any  dogs,  Monsieur?" 
asked  the  Countess. 

Of  all  the  sentences  that  had  fallen 
from  her  lips,  Achille  treasured  this 
question  as  the  most  angelic.  He  told 
118 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

her  of  Boy,  and  Toto  the  pug,  and 
Brutus  the  watch  dog,  and  incidentally 
something  of  his  garden  and  the  serv 
ants.  Presently  their  talk  drifted  back 
to  the  Pig  Market  and  mention  was 
made  of  her  companion  who  had  so 
suddenly  disappeared. 

"  She  was  a  chance  acquaintance," 
explained  the  Countess.  "  The  convent, 
which  is  really  a  hotel  with  bars  on  the 
windows,  was  crowded,  and  we  were 
given  a  room  together.  It  seems  that 
the  Sisters  (in  addition  to  taking  care 
of  girls  who  must  be  somewhere,  but 
are  not  wanted  anywhere  in  particular) 
maintain  a  species  of  consigne  where 
wives  may  be  checked  till  called  for, 
and  that  her  husband  being  obliged  to 
go  abroad  had  left  her  there.  I  soon 
found  that  my  roommate  had  an 
arrangement  with  the  baker,  who  has  a 
key  to  the  small  gate  in  the  garden  wall 
in  order  to  bring  in  the  bread,  by  which 
119 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

she  was  able  to  go  out  during  the  hours 
of  private  meditation.  The  baker 
rented  bicycles,  and  sometimes  we  went 
riding  together,  but  never  very  far.  It 
was  my  fault  that  we  were  at  the  fair. 
I  had  heard  of  the  country  about  Gres- 
lin  and  wanted  to  see  it." 

"  I  trust  that  you  were  not  dis 
appointed." 

"  I  think  it  well  repays  a  visit." 

"  If  you  will  allow  me  to  say  it,"  ven 
tured  Achille, "  it  might  have  been  more 
prudent  to  have  selected  another  day, 
although  of  course  your  adventure 
would  not  have  turned  out  as  it  did, 
had  it  not  been  for  my  stupidity  in  going 
to  sleep.  Mademoiselle,  can  I  ever 
thank  you  for  not  reproaching  me!  " 

The  Countess  laughed  softly. 

"  That  would  not  have  been  fair," 
she  answered,  "  especially  as  I  hap 
pened  to  be  awake  when  we  made  the 
wrong  turning." 

1 20 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  You  were  awake  !     You  knew! " 

"  Yes,  but  it  would  have  been  so  stu 
pid  to  go  straight  back." 

"  Mademoiselle,  it  was  the  height  of 
imprudence! " 

"  Pooh!  I  knew  that  I  should  be 
as  well  cared  for  as  though  I  had 
gone  roaming  the  hills  with  Leo 
XIII." 

"Ah!  "cried  Achilla,  "let  this  be  a 
lesson!  You  thought  yourself  with  the 
worthy  DuLorme,  of  whom,  believe  me, 
I  have  never  so  much  as  heard, 
while  I  ..." 

"  While  you  are  Monsieur  Achille 
Vifour.  I  have  known  that  from  the 
first." 

"PARDON!" 

The  voice  was  like  that  of  a  cannon 
breaking  in  upon  the  quiet  of  a  summer 
evening.  The  speaker  wore  his  cocked 
hat  sideways,  and  by  other  peculiarities 
of  costume  proclaimed  himself  an  officer 

121 


The    Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

of  the  law.  While  the  wanderers  had 
laughed  and  whispered  of  their  own 
concerns,  Fate  had  come  upon  them  in 
the  uniform  of  a  sergeant  of  gendarmes, 
who  stood  making  a  military  salute  in 
sickening  travesty  of  respect. 

"  I  regret  the  necessity  of  disturbing 
Monsieur,"  said  the  officer,  "  but  he  will 
not  deny  that  the  cap  which  he  has  now 
upon  his  head  was  purchased  one  hour 
ago  at  the  chapellerie  Rosenberg  for  the 
sum  of  two  francs-fifty." 

"  I  do  not  attempt  to  deny  it,"  an 
swered  Achille, "especially  as  I  saw  you 
watching  me  from  the  street,  but  why 
should  I  not  buy  it?  " 

"Have  a  care!"  said  the  officer, 
sternly,  "  let  me  caution  you  that  what 
ever  you  may  say  will  be  used  against 
you  at  your  trial." 

"At  my  trial!  "  cried  Achille,  flushing 
with  anger  and  surprise. 

'  The   old   cap   left   in   the  shop  of 

122 


The    Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

Rosenberg    contains   evidence    of    the 
most  incriminating  nature." 

"Of  what  am  I  accused?"  gasped 
Achille. 

"  Of  what  is  Pierre  Rabot,  of  many 
aliases,  not  accused?" 

"  Pierre  Rabot  is  a  scoundrel! " 

"  I  advise  you  to  reserve  any  confes 
sion  that  you  may  have  to  make.  It 
will  be  more  useful  to  denounce  yourself 
before  the  court.  Come  with  me. 
Madame  may  remain." 

"  Madame  will  not  remain,"  retorted 
the  Countess,  with  spirit.  "  You  have 
made  some  imbecile  mistake  for  which 
you  will  be  reprimanded  by  the 
judge." 

The  gendarme  smiled  grimly. 

"  The  Law  does  not  make  mistakes," 
he  answered.  "  That  is  left  for  foolish 
women  who  leave  their  household 
duties  to  keep  appointments  in  the 
garden." 

123 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"The  Military  never  have  appoint 
ments  in  the  garden!"  said  the  Countess, 
tossing  her  head,  which  pleased  the 
gendarme,  for  he  liked  to  be  considered 
of  the  military,  and  his  moustaches  were 
waxed. 

The  officer,  holding  Achille  firmly 
with  his  large  right  hand,  marched  from 
the  garden,  while  the  Countess  upon  the 
left  kept  up  a  running  fire  of  conversa 
tion,  and  laughed  with  affected  gaiety, 
to  give  the  procession  the  semblance  of 
an  amiable  promenade. 

"Unnecessary  words  are  not  per 
mitted  while  on  duty,"  said  the  ser 
geant. 

"  That  does  not  prevent  your  listen 
ing,"  laughed  the  Countess.  "  I  knew  a 
gendarme  once  who  arrested  a  dress 
maker's  dummy  for  being  out  in  the 
street  too  late,  and  the  circumstance 
so  affected  her  reputation  that  he  was 
obliged  to  marry  her." 
124 


The    Inn   of   the    Silver   Moon 

"  Marry  the  dummy?  " 

"  No,  the  dressmaker,  stupid!  I  knew 
of  another  .  .  . 

"  Silence,  we  are  about  to  pass  the 
residence  of  the  judge." 

"  Is  that  the  judge  ?  that  little  jackdaw 
there  in  the  garden,  eating  his  breakfast 
with  his  napkin  tucked  under  his  chin! 
Will  he  try  us  with  the  cotelette  aux 
pommes?  will  he  give  sentence  with  the 
fromage  de  brie?" 

"  Madame,"  said  the  gendarme,  "  I 
dare  not  look  in  that  direction,  but  if 
you  can  do  so  unobserved  will  you  have 
the  goodness  to  note  what  he  is 
eating?" 

"  He  is  at  this  moment  breaking  an 
egg  with  his  knife." 

"  Parbleu!  he  will  not  be  through  for 
an  hour,  and  he  has  the  key  of  the 
court  in  his  pocket.  It  will  be  necessary 
for  us  to  continue  marching." 

"  But  not  in  the  streets,  I  pray  you! 
125 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

Let  us  go  down  to  the  river  and  walk 
up  and  down  along  the  bank." 

The  sergeant  drew  himself  to  his  full 
height;  but  when  the  Countess  nudged 
him  with  her  elbow,  he  gave  the  order 
"left  wheel"  to  his  prisoner,  and  they 
turned  into  a  steep  and  narrow  lane  at 
the  end  of  which  was  a  glimpse  of  trees 
and  the  shimmer  of  water. 

The  river  that  washes  the  quiet  qu£y 
of  St.  Juste  is  an  orderly  river.  It  has 
guide  posts  telling  the  voyager  where 
he  must  not  land  and  where  he  is  for 
bidden  to  fish;  there  are  neat  walls 
along  the  edges  like  a  canal,  and  tree- 
lined  sidewalks  like  a  boulevard;  the 
very  islands  in  the  stream  remind  one 
of  the  refuge  places  where  the  timid 
seek  safety  from  omnibuses. 

When  the  sergeant  with  his  charge 

came  out  upon  the  quay  they  found  the 

place  almost  deserted.    Two  scows  of 

sand,  one  full,  the  other  half  unloaded 

126 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 


lay  moored  against  the  wall  awaiting 
the  return  of  the  workmen  from  their 
breakfast.  In  the  shadow  of  a  pile  of 
bricks  some  horses  munched  their  oats. 
A  woman  came  up  the  ramp  from  the 
water's  edge  wheeling  a  barrow  of  wet 
linen;  below  a  boy  washed  a  large 
yellow  dog,  and  near  him  a  skiff  with 
oars  still  in  the  rowlocks  was  drawn 
up  a  little  on  the  flags  that  it  might  not 
float  away  during  its  owner's  absence. 

"  Let's  go  down  and  see  him  wash  the 
dog,"  said  the  Countess.  "  We  shall  not 
be  seen  there,  and  you  know  if  it  should 
turn  out  that  you  have  made  a  mistake 
you  would  be  sorry  if  we  were  too  con 
spicuous." 

As  they  reached  the  waterside,  the 
dog,  being  at  the  moment  liberated, 
shook  himself  violently  and  with  such 
effect  that  the  officer,  who  happened  to 
be  nearest,  was  spattered  from  head  to 
foot. 

127 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  Bad  luck  to  the  beast!"  he  shouted, 
angrily.    "  How  am  I  to  present  myself 
before  the  judge  looking  like     .     .     . 
like    .    .     . 

"  An  educated  seal,"  suggested  the 
Countess,  but  the  gendarme  only  said 
coldly: 

"  Now  we  shall  have  to  remain  in  the 
sun  till  I  am  dry." 

The  Countess  clapped  her  hands. 

"I  have  it!"  she  cried,  "we  will  go 
out  in  the  boat  and  you  can  sit  in  the 
sun  and  dry.  Perhaps  we  might  row 
over  to  that  lovely  little  island,  and 
while  your  prisoner  roamed  about  you 
and  I  could  stay  in  the  boat  and  chat. 
It  would  be  much  pleasanter  than  walk 
ing  three  abreast  on  these  scorching 
stones,  and  your  poor  hand  must  be 
tired  holding  his  arm.  Ah,  come!  your 
sweetheart  will  never  know." 

The  sergeant,  who  was  the  father  of 
a  family,  chuckled  fatuously,  and  as  the 
128 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

plan  seemed  feasible,  ordered  Achille 
to  push  the  boat  into  the  water  while 
he  kept  a  firm  hold  on  the  skirts  of  the 
stiff  new  blouse.  Pierre  Rabot's  gar 
ment  had  been  rolled  into  a  ball  and 
carefully  tied  in  a  red  cotton  handker 
chief  in  accordance  with  the  Countess' 
theory  that  such  a  piece  of  baggage 
was  indispensable  as  an  evidence  of 
peasant  respectability. 

When  they  embarked  Achille  was 
assigned  to  the  oars,  the  Countess 
claimed  the  privilege  of  the  rudder,  and 
the  sergeant  sat  forward  where  he 
could  enjoy  the  benefit  of  the  sun  and 
at  the  same  time  keep  a  close  watch 
upon  his  captive.  A  hundred  strokes 
sent  the  light  craft  across  the  strip  of 
water,  and  as  nobody  happened  to  be 
looking  out  ahead,  brought  the  prow 
in  such  violent  contact  with  the 
shelving  bottom  full  two  metres  from 
the  bank,  that  the  officer  was  for  a 
129 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

moment  in  imminent  danger  of  falling 
out. 

"  Have  a  care  what  you  are  about," 
he  shouted.  "  I  warn  you  that  any  act 
of  disrespect  will  be  used  against  you 
at  the  trial." 

"  Pardon,"  said  Achille,  and  this  was 
the  first  word  he  had  spoken  since  they 
left  the  fountain. 

"Can't  we  get  nearer?"  asked  the 
Countess. 

"  No,"  replied  the  sergeant  who  had 
been  taking  soundings  with  his  sword, 
"  the  prow  is  already  on  the  sand  and 
the  water  ahead  is  more  shallow." 

"What  shall  we  do?" 

"  Go  back.  Stop  rowing  there,  you 
are  pushing  aground." 

"  I  will  not  go  back  until  I  have  seen 
that  island.  I  will  tell  you  how  we  can 
manage.  You,  Monsieur  la  Capitaine, 
leap  ashore,  the  boat  will  easily  go  up 
when  you  are  out." 

130 


That  night  be  used  against  me  at  the  trial. 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

The  sergeant  stood  up  and  measured 
the  distance  with  his  eye. 

"  It  is  a  pretty  good  jump,"  he  said 
dubiously. 

"  I  am  sure  that  I  could  do  it,"  said 
the  Countess. 

"  Will  you  give  me  a  kiss  if  I  do  it  ?" 

"  The  moment  I  am  on  the  island." 

"  Well,  here  goes,"  said  the  sergeant, 
and  he  jumped. 

He  alighted  in  water  above  his  an 
kles  and  splashed  toward  the  land  mut 
tering  soldierly  expletives,  and  the  boat 
relieved  of  his  weight  floated  freely, 
but  the  recoil  of  the  jump  had  driven  it 
well  out  in  the  stream  where  the  cur 
rent  took  it  rapidly  still  further  away. 

"  Come  right  in  here,"  yelled  the  ser 
geant,  "  the  water  is  deep  enough. 
Pull  on  your  left  oar,  idiot! " 

"  I  am  afraid,"  retorted  Achille,  "that 
might  be  used  against  me  at  the 
trial." 


VIII 

Achilla  rowed  with  more  force  than 
finish,  taking  the  direction  of  least 
resistance,  and  the  current  being  strong, 
the  marooned  official  was  soon  a  ges 
ticulating  speck  far  astern.  As  long  as 
he  remained  in  sight  the  Countess  con 
tinued  to  wave  her  handkerchief,  and 
to  a  chance  observer  on  the  shore 
the  scene  might  readily  have  been 
interpreted  as  the  parting  of  exception 
ally  good  friends. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  exclaimed  the 
rower,  pausing  to  wipe  his  forehead, 
"  words  fail  me  to  express  my  admira 
tion  for  your  strategy.  It  was  Na 
poleonic." 

"  The  favoring  circumstances  may 
have  been  Napoleonic,"  she  answered 
133 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver  Moon 

modestly,  and  there  was  a  note  of 
regret  as  she  added  "  but  it  did  not  go 
as  far  as  strategy." 

"  Surely  you  would  not  have  wished 
it  to  go  further?" 

"  Well,"  sighed  the  lady,  "  I  was  pre 
pared  to  fall  in  love  with  the  judge." 

Achille  resumed  the  rowing  with  un 
necessary  vigor,  and  there  was  silence 
till  presently  she  asked: 

"  Ought  the  water  to  come  into  the 
boat?  "and  a  hurried  examination  re 
vealed  an  open  seam  through  which  the 
river  entered  with  alarming  rapidity. 

Achille  at  first  made  light  of  the  diffi 
culty,  and  began  to  bale  industriously, 
but  when  it  became  apparent  that  the 
leak  was  gaining,  he  gave  the  dipper  to 
the  Countess  and  put  his  whole  strength 
to  the  oars.  They  were  now  in  the 
open  channel,  and  from  the  rapidly  set 
tling  boat  the  shore  seemed  at  every 
stroke  to  recede  still  further,  but  con- 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

cerned  only  with  their  present  dan 
ger  the  fugitives  noticed  nothing  till, 
startled  by  the  clanging  of  a  gong, 
they  looked  up  to  see  the  sharp  red 
prow  of  a  vessel  bearing  down  upon 
them. 

"  Place,  if  you  please!  What  do  you 
mean  by  getting  in  my  way  like  that?" 
shouted  a  man  in  the  guttural  ac 
cents  of  an  Alsatian. 

"  Here  you,  take  us  aboard,  we  are 
sinking.  You  can  put  us  on  shore 
wherever  you  please,"  called  Achille. 

"  If  you  are  really  sinking  I  must 
take  you  on  board,  but  I  cannot  stop  to 
put  you  on  shore.  I  have  business 
to  attend  to  and  no  time  to  trifle 
with  idiots  who  row  in  a  sieve." 

"  You  may  take  us  where  you  are 
going,  and  we  will  pay  our  fare." 

"  In  that  case  I  should  be  fined,  for  I 
have  no  license  to  carry  passengers." 

"  Let  us  discuss  that  when  we  are  on 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

deck.     Don't  you  see  that  we  are  in 
danger?" 

"  Your  boat  will  not  sink  for  several 
minutes,  and  I  must  know  in  what 
capacity  you  are  to  come  on  my  vessel. 
Monsieur  is  evidently  not  a  man  of 
business." 

"  We  will  become  members  of  your 
crew." 

"  And  great  additions  you  would  be! 
Can  you  cook?  " 

"  Perhaps;  I  have  never  tried." 

"  I  can,"  interrupted  the  Countess,  "  I 
can  cook  like  a  cordon  bleu,  and  my 
brother  is  an  excellent  valet  de  cham- 
bre." 

"Well,"  said  the  captain,  "at  all 
events  you  are  a  fine  girl,  and  I  will  em 
ploy  you  both;  but  remember  it  is  to  be 
without  pay.  My  cook  was  at  the  last 
moment  obliged  to  go  to  the  dentist's 
and  the  mousse  is  frivolous  and  light- 
minded.'' 

136 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

"  We  will  agree  to  your  terms,"  cried 
Achille,  impatiently,  "  but  do  hurry  and 
let  down  a  ladder." 

"  Not  so  fast,  my  friend.  I  must  ask 
you  first  if  you  leave  the  boat  will- 
ingly?" 

"Willingly!"  exclaimed  Achille,  "I 
assure  you  I  have  never  in  my  life  been 
more  willing  to  leave  a  place." 

"  It  is  important  that  this  should  be 
understood,  because  if  you  abandon  the 
boat  of  your  own  accord  it  becomes 
a  derelict  and  the  prize  of  whoever 
picks  it  up,  whereas  if  it  were  only  a 
question  of  salvage.  .  ." 

"The  boat  is  yours!"  interrupted 
Achille  savagely,  and  a  ladder  being 
lowered  the  travelers  were  assisted  to 
the  deck  where  the  captain  greeted 
them  with  greater  show  of  good  will 
than  his  words  had  led  them  to  ex 
pect. 

"  You  see,"   he  said,  "  I  am  in  the 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

wrecking  business  and  make  my  living 
by  accidents  on  the  river,  and  I  am  now 
on  my  way  to  recover  a  cargo  of  wine 
that  has  sunk  in  a  barge.  I  am  glad  to 
have  been  of  service,  but  the  delay  has 
cost  me  something,  and  I  cannot  afford 
to  relinquish  any  rights  that  are  mine 
by  law." 

"What  a  beautiful  ship,"  exclaimed 
the  Countess,  looking  about  her  at  the 
various  appliances  that  adorned  the 
vessel's  deck.  "  Is  that  a  yard  arm?" 

"  No,"  replied  the  captain,  smiling, 
"  that  is  a  derrick." 

"  I  thought,"  said  the  Countess,  "that 
it  was  where  you  hang  people  when  you 
have  a  mutiny.  This  I  suppose  is  a 
boiler  or  a  binnacle,  or  is  it  a  belaying 
pin?" 

"  It  is  neither,"  replied  the  delighted 

seaman,  with   whom   the   imparting  of 

information  was  a  passion.    "  That  is 

what  we  call  a  windlass.     It  is  an  im- 

138 


The   Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

provement  on  the  ordinary  pattern 
which  I  have  invented  myself,  and  if  you 
will  come  nearer  I  will  explain  exactly 
how  it  works." 

"  I  think  that  as  I  am  to  be  the  cook, 
it  would  be  better  to  explain  the  kitchen 
first." 

"  As  you  please,  my  dear  young  lady. 
We  started  hurriedly  and  have  not 
breakfasted,  so  you  may  begin  your 
duties  at  once.  Here  is  the  kitchen- 
small  but  very  convenient,  and  opening 
directly  on  the  deck.  Here  are  the 
provisions  still  in  the  boxes,  nothing 
has  been  unpacked.  You  will  find  a 
hammer  on  the  shelf  and  your  brother 
can  open  the  crates.  There  is  a  lobster 
somewhere  and  some  cutlets,  onions  for 
soup,  and  a  quantity  of  artichokes." 

"  Do  you  think  that  one  lobster  will 
be  enough  for  all  the  sailors  ?  " 

The  captain  was  in  ecstacy. 

"  You  will  ruin  me,"  cried  he,  "  lobster 
139 


The    Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

for  the  crew  ?  No,  my  charming  cook, 
we  have  nothing  to  do  with  those  fel 
lows  down  below.  You  will  prepare 
only  the  most  dainty  dishes,  and  we 
will  eat  them  together  quite  like  a 
family.  I  am  a  true  democrat,  and  the 
cook  shall  sit  at  my  table." 

"  And  the  valet  ?  " 

"And  the  valet, the  brother,  certainly! 
As  the  saying  is,  'the  hair  goes  with  the 
hide.'  Now  I  shall  leave  you  to  your 
work.  I  will  return  from  time  to  time 
to  see  if  you  need  anything." 

"  Mademoiselle,"  began  Achille,when 
the  two  were  alone,  "  I  must  caution 
you  not  to  be  quite  so — so  agreeable  to 
this  animal  of  a  captain." 

"  It  never  does  any  harm  to  have 
people  feel  pleasantly  toward  you," 
pouted  the  Countess.  "  Come,  let  us 
find  the  lobster.  Do  you  think  it  would 
be  well  to  serve  it  a  la  Diable?" 

"  By  all  means." 

140 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

Achilla  took  the  hammer  and  began 
viciously  striking  the  covers  from  the 
six  boxes  ranged  along  the  kitchen 
wall.  The  first  one  contained  candles 
wrapped  in  blue  paper  in  packages  of 
five,  so  he  turned  to  the  next.  This 
disclosed  other  packages  of  candles,  as 
also  did  the  other  four.  Neither  lobster 
nor  cutlet,  nor  artichoke  nor  onion,  only 
candles  in  blue  paper  wrappings.  It 
was  plain  that  some  fatal  error  had 
been  made. 

"  Ha,  ha!  "  laughed  Achille,  -"  here  is 
a  breakfast  for  the  czar!  How  will  the 
noble  captain  have  his  candles,  plain, 
or  cooked  in  their  own  fat  ? " 

"It  is  too  bad,"  cried  the  Countess, 
"I  always  wanted  to  make  a  lobster  a 
la  Diable." 

11 1  forgot,"  said  the  captain,  thrusting 
his  head  in  at  the  door — "  I  forgot  to 
tell  you  about  the  duckling,  smothered 
in  onions — " 

141 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 


When  the  captain  returned  from 
behind  the  wheel  house  where  he  had 
spent  the  first  moments  of  his  disap 
pointment,  his  face  had  lost  much  of 
the  cheerfulness  that  had  been  its  chief 
attraction. 

"  I  had  intended,"  he  explained  sadly, 
"  to  make  this  something  of  a  fete.  1 
receive  pay  in  proportion  to  the  value 
of  the  wreck,  and  this  cargo  of  wine  is 
composed  of  the  most  costly  vintages. 
It  is  not  often  that  I  can  afford  such  ex 
travagances,  and  that  lobster  was  a 
dream." 

"  As  there  is  nothing  to  cook,"  sug 
gested  the  Countess,  "  perhaps  there 
are  other  ways  in  which  we  could  be 
useful." 

"  Not    a    word    of    such    a    thing! " 

exclaimed  the  mariner.    "You  are  my 

guests.     There  is  nothing  in  my  license 

to  prevent  my  carrying  guests;  it  was 

142 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

stupid  of  me  not  to  have  thought  of 
that  sooner." 

"Monsieur  is  very  amiable,"  replied 
the  lady,  "  but  we  should  not  be  idle. 
If  you  could  supply  me  with  some 
colored  thread  I  should  be  happy  to 
work  your  monogram  on  anything  in 
the  boat  you  may  select." 

The  worthy  Alsatian  refused  to  enter 
tain  the  suggestion,  and  soon  after 
invited  his  guests,  with  many  apologies, 
into  his  private  cabin,  where  the  mousse 
served  them  bountifully  with  an  excel 
lent  mutton  stew  from  the  forecastle 
mess,  and  some  fried  cat-fish  that  were 
not  so  good. 

During  the  meal,  the  Countess  dis 
played  a  curiosity  concerning  the 
wrecking  industry  which  Achille  was 
far  from  sharing,  and  the  host — cheered 
by  her  interest,  and  the  contents  of  a 
bottle  which,  he  said,  had  lain  for  twenty 
years  under  water  in  the  hull  of  a  Bor- 
143 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

deaux  wine  ship — told  with  a  nice 
attention  to  detail  of  his  experiences 
upon  the  river  and  the  profit  or  loss 
that  had  resulted  from  several  ventures. 

Meanwhile  the  little  steamer,  aided 
more  by  the  current  than  her  own 
clanking  engine  and  splashing  paddles, 
went  rapidly  upon  her  course,  and 
although  one  looking  toward  the  tree- 
lined  shore  would  have  found  it  difficult 
to  believe  that  St.  Juste  was  not  still  in 
sight,  that  thriving  city  lay  in  reality 
leagues  astern. 

"  How  long  will  it  take  to  get  where 
we  are  going?"  asked  the  Countess, 
when  the  party  had  seated  themselves 
on  coils  of  rope  upon  the  quarter 
deck. 

"  About  seven  hours,"  replied  the 
captain,  lighting  a  cigarette  and  offer 
ing  the  package  to  Achille.whodeclined. 
"  We  shall  cast  anchor  beside  the 
wreck  for  to-night,  and  if  all  goes  well 
144 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

we  shall  be  ready  to  begin  hoisting  by 
five  o'clock  to-morrow  morning." 
"  How  long  will  that  take  ? " 
"  Possibly  three  days,  possibly  longer 
— I  think  I  was  saying,  that  the  wreck 
of  the  oil  barge  was  not  so  fortunate  as 
the  last  expedition  of  which  I  told  you. 
The  value  of  the  cargo  was  five  thou 
sand  four  hundred  and  seventy-five 
francs,  as  shown  by  the  insurance  policy 
which  was  for  three  thousand  two 
hundred  and  fifty.  My  share  should 
have  been  ten  per  cent,  or  five  hundred 
and  forty-seven  francs,  and  I  should 
have  made  a  profit  of  perhaps  two 
hundred  and  thirty  or  two  hundred  and 
forty  francs  at  least,  if  the  eccentric 
had  not  broken.  I  must  first  explain 
to  you,  Mademoiselle,  that  this  eccen 
tric—" 

"  Monsieur,"  interrupted  the  Count 
ess,  with  difficulty  suppressing  a  yawn, 
"  I  am  much  fatigued,  and  I  am  sure 
MS 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

that  I  should  understand  your  story 
better  if  you  would  allow  me  take  a  nap 
on  that  delightful  sofa  in  your  cabin." 

"If  Mademoiselle  will  consider  herself 
the  owner  of  the  cabin,"  said  the 
gallant  wrecker,  rising,  "  I  shall  be 
supremely  happy." 

Achille,  alone  with  his  entertainer, 
resigned  himself  to  the  story  of  the  oil 
barge,  but  the  end  thereof  he  was  not 
destined  to  know.  No  sooner  had  the 
cabin  door  closed  upon  the  Countess, 
than  he  felt  the  heavy  hand  of  the 
captain  descend  affectionately  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  heard  his  voice  exclaim 
ing  in  the  guttural  accents  of  Alsace— 

"  Your  sister  is  charming! " 

"My  sister!  Ah,  oh  yes.  She  is  a 
worthy  young  woman  and  not  consid 
ered  unattractive,"  assented  Achille 
modestly,  as  one  who  does  not  care  to 
boast  of  merit  in  his  own  family. 

The  captain  puffed  his  cheeks  till  his 
146 


The    Inn   of   the   Silver    Moon 

eyes  bulged  out  in  a  manner  which 
recalled  the  facial  expression  of  the 
lamented  lobster. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  said  in  the  bluff  and 
hearty  manner  of  the  sea;  "  Monsieur,  I 
am  a  man  of  affairs.  I  make  up  my 
mind  quickly.  I  act  quickly.  I  use  few 
words;  when  I  say  'yes'  I  mean  'yes»' 
and  when  I  say  'no'  I  mean  'no.'  I  am 
not  like  the  Normans  who  say  'We  shall 
see'  or  '  Perhaps,  if  things  go  our  way 
we  will  consider.'  I  come  to  the  point 
quickly.  It  is  my  habit  and  I  have 
found  that  it  is  good  policy.  'Few  words 
and  to  the  purpose/  that's  my  motto — 
1  Few  words  and  to  the  purpose!' ' 

"  An  excellent  motto,"  said  Achille, 
who  wished  that  they  had  not  left  the 
topic  of  the  eccentric. 

"  You  think  so,  don't  you!  Then  we 
shall  get  on  admirably." 

"  I  trust  that  we  shall." 

"  Now  some  men,"  pursued  the  cap- 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

tain,  "cannot  buy  a  chicken  without 
poking  a  hole  in  it  with  their  fingers. 
Some  men  will  not  employ  a  sailor  till 
they  have  seen  his  baptismal  certificate. 
Some  men  won't  drink  a  bottle  of  wine 
till  they  have  examined  the  cork.  That 
is  not  my  way.  In  our  business  it  would 
never  do;  one  must  learn  to  rely  upon 
his  own  judgment." 

"  Certainly!  "  said  the  other,  writhing. 

"  You  see  what  I  am  coming  to  ?" 

"  Well,  not  exactly." 

"  I  shall  marry  your  sister!  No,  do 
not  protest.  I  anticipate  all  that  you 
would  say, — I  have  known  her  but  an 
hour!  Parbleu,  it  is  a  risk,  but  all  mar 
riage  is  a  risk.  'A  pig  in  a  bag,'  as 
they  say,  but  it  is  my  way.  I  own  that 
I  might  perhaps  have  done  better,  but 
then,  after  all,  who  knows  ?  I  admit 
that  there  is  a  widow — no  entangle 
ment  I  assure  you! — a  widow  with  an 
excellent  cheese  business,  who  will  be 
148 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

disconsolate,  but  we  cannot  account  for 
the  heart." 

"Monsieur!"  cried  the  young  man, 
crimson  with  indignation. 

"  Monsieur  the  captain,"  interrupted 
a  sailor,  touching  his  cap,  "the  mousse 
has  used  all  the  machine  oil  to  fry  the 
cat-fish  and  the  engineer  is  in  de 
spair." 

While  the  captain  pursued  the  mousse 
from  one  end  of  the  deck  to  the  other 
with  the  avowed  intention  of  taking  his 
life,  Achille  sat  upon  a  heap  of  chain 
and  reflected  dismally  upon  this  new 
perplexity,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  green 
door  of  the  cabin,  behind  which  slept 
the  Countess,  happily  unconscious  of 
the  trouble  that  awaited  her.  Finally 
he  arrived  at  two  conclusions;  first, 
that  in  their  present  position,  it  would 
be  imprudent  to  quarrel  with  the  cap 
tain  of  the  vessel,  on  which  they  were 
practically  prisoners;  and  second,  that 
149 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

the  knowledge  of  the  man's  proposal 
must  be  kept  from  the  Countess  until 
she  should  be  free  from  any  possible 
annoyance  at  his  hands.  He  had  dis 
approved  from  the  first  of  her  efforts  to 
make  the  captain  "feel  pleasantly" 
toward  her,  but  he  reflected  that  it  was 
a  like  pleasant  feeling  in  the  breast  of 
the  gendarme  that  had  contributed  to 
their  escape  from  St.  Juste,  and  resolved 
to  continue  her  plan  of  battle,  while 
keeping  a  close  watch  for  a  circum 
stance  that  might  induce  the  captain  to 
make  a  landing.  With  this  in  view  he 
greeted  the  seaman  cordially  on  his 
return  and  inquired  with  affected  un 
concern  if  it  would  be  necessary  to  go 
on  shore  to  procure  more  oil. 

"  No,"  replied  the  captain.  "  We  will 
use  butter  and  the  cost  will  be  deducted 
from  the  boy's  pay." 

"  That  is  only  fair." 

"And  now,  my  dear  friend,  let  us 
150 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

return  to  more  agreeable  matters.  You 
have  been  thinking  of  what  I  said?" 

"  I  have  indeed;  but  I  must  tell  you, 
Monsieur,  that,  flattered  as  I  am  by 
your  proposal  for  my  sister's  hand,  I 
can  say  nothing  until  we  have  laid  the 
matter  before  our  grandmother.  She 
has  promised  that  her  entire  fortune 
shall  go  to  my  sister  on  condition  that 
no  marriage  shall  take  place  without 
her  consent." 

"  Is  the  good  lady  old?" 

"  Yes,  she  is  ninety-seven  and  lately 
her  health  has  given  us  much  anxiety." 

"You  say  she  is  not  in  want?" 

"  Ah,  Monsieur,  she  is  very  rich,  and 
I  have  good  reason  for  believing  that 
her  fortune  is  even  greater  than  we 
suppose." 

"  Where  does  she  live?  " 

"Monsieur!"  exclaimed  Achille, 
springing  to  his  feet  in  evident  excite 
ment,  "  Monsieur,  what  town  is  that 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

upon  the  left  bank?  Yes,  surely  there 
is  the  church!  It  is,  it  must  be — !" 

"  That  is  Aix-sur-Ouse." 

"I  knew  it!  I  was  certain!  There, 
my  friend,  just  below  the  church  is  the 
red  roof  of  my  grandmother's  cottage. 
Ah,  little  does  she  know,  good  soul, 
how  near  her  beloved  Suzette  is  pass- 
ing! " 

"  Do  you  mean  the  long  roof  with  the 
two  chimneys?"  asked  the  captain, 
breathing  audibly. 

"  No,  Monsieur,  the  smaller  one  a 
little  to  the  right.  It  is  a  humble  cot 
tage,  for  grandmother  is  very  econom 
ical." 

"  Do  you  think  that  it  would  be  well 
to  stop?" 

"  Ah,  Monsieur,  think  of  your  busi 
ness.  There  will  be  time  enough  when 
we  come  back;  everything  can  be  set 
tled  in  an  hour." 

"  Do  you  think  we  could  see  her  now  ? " 
152 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  This  is  the  time  of  day  when 
she  is  the  most  amiable;  but  your  busi 
ness — 

"  That  shall  wait.  I  am  not  a  man  to 
hesitate  when  I  have  made  up  my 
mind!  Here,  mate,  slow  up!  Give  or 
ders  to  land  at  Aix!  " 

"Good!"  cried  the  grandson  with 
enthusiasm,  adding  in  a  whisper,  "re 
member  not  a  word  to  my  sister;  she  is 
a  sensitive  girl  and  would  shrink  from 
any  mention  of  her  marriage  till  all  has 
been  arranged." 

"  I  am  not  a  Breton  to  be  guilty  of 
such  indelicacy,"  replied  the  sailor, 
proudly. 

Achille  now  rapped  upon  the  cabin 
door  and  called  in  joyous  tones: 

"Suzette,  come  out!  We  are  ap 
proaching  Aix  and  the  good  captain 
has  consented  to  stop  for  an  hour  that 
we  may  visit  our  beloved  grandmother." 

The  face  of  the  Countess  as  she  ap- 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

peared  wore  the  puzzled  expression 
common  with  persons  recently  roused 
from  slumber,  but  she  clapped  her 
hands  and  cried: 

"  Ah,  the  dear  grandmother,  what  joy 
to  see  her!  and  the  dear  grandfather 
too!  " 

"Grandfather!"  ejaculated  the  cap 
tain. 

"  His  grave  is  in  the  cemetery  beside 
the  church,"  said  Achille,  softly. 

The  captain  lifted  his  hat  and  the 
Countess  wiped  her  eyes. 

"  I  cannot  think  of  him  as  gone,"  she 

said. 

****** 

"Steady!  Back  a  little!  Jump  off 
and  catch  the  rope!  Monsieur,  the 
landing  is  made!  " 

After  an  earnest  consultation  between 
the  prospective  brothers-in-law  it  was 
decided  that  the  impatient  lover  should 
remain  on  his  vessel  until  the  old  lady 


The   Inn   of  the"  Silver   Moon 

had  been  made  acquainted  with  his  pro 
posal. 

"  I  will  rely  upon  you,  my  dear  friend, 
to  present  the  matter  in  its  proper  light. 
You  know  something  of  my  business, 
you  know  what  sort  of  a  man  I  am." 

"  I  know  all  that  I  care  to  know  of 
both,"  said  Achille,  warmly  pressing  his 
hand. 

"  I  shall  expect  you  in  an  hour! " 

"  It  will  be  sooner.  Meanwhile  I  will 
confide  this  bundle  to  your  care,  it  does 
not  appear  valuable,  but  may  I  ask  you 
not  to  let  it  leave  your  hands  till  I  re 
turn." 

"I  promise  faithfully  that  it  shall 
not,"  replied  the  captain  as  he  received 
with  great  respect  the  cast  off  blouse  of 
Pierre  Rabot. 

"Au  revoir,  my  friend.  Come,  Su- 
zette," — but  Suzette  was  already  on 
shore. 

The  brother  and  sister  skirted  the 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver  Moon 

short  row  of  low-gabled  houses  that  led 
in  the  direction  of  the  red-tiled  cottage; 
and  neither  paused  nor  seemed  to  hesi 
tate  till  they  had  passed  the  corner  and 
were  hidden  even  from  the  mousse  upon 
the  derrick. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  here  before  ?' 
asked  the  Countess. 

"  No,  but  I  have  seen  a  diligence 
from  here  pass  my  house  every  evening, 
and  I  have  hopes  that  we  may  catch  it." 

"  What  did  you  say  to  the  captain  ?  " 

"  I  promised  that  you  should  be  en 
gaged  to  him  in  an  hour." 

"Monsieur!" 

"Yes,  I  have  given  my  consent,  and 
nothing  is  lacking  but  the  formal  bless 
ing  of  your  grandmother." 

The  Countess  tossed  her  head. 

"  For  my  part,"  she  said,  "  I  should 
rather  be  engaged  to  the  captain  than 
arrested." 


156 


IX 

Guided  by  eight  native  children  and 
a  resident  goat,  no  market  place  is 
difficult  to  find,  and  it  was  not  long  be 
fore  the  travelers,  emerging  from  the 
shadow  of  the  church,  uttered  exclama 
tions  of  joy  at  the  sight  of  a  small  red 
omnibus  standing  before  the  inn.  Its 
seated  passengers  and  exalted  driver 
announced  the  moment  of  departure  to 
be  near,  and  upon  the  door  of  the 
vehicle  were  the  two  words,  GRESLIN 
— AIX. 

Tossing  a  handful  of  copper  coins  to 
the  expectant  escort,  Achille  lost  no 
time  in  pre-empting  the  seat  behind  the 
box,  which  had  fortunately  been  left 
vacant  by  the  peasant  patrons  of  the 
line,  and  almost  before  he  could  turn  to 


The    Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

his  companion  with  felicitations  on 
their  good  fortune,  they  were  rattling 
over  the  stones  to  the  post  office  for  the 
mail.  Thence  they  drove  up  a  side 
street  and  waited  while  a  stout  peasant 
bound  a  cord  about  his  hair  trunk  and 
embraced  his  tearful  family. 

"Are  we  really  off?"  asked  the 
Countess,  glancing  nervously  behind, 
when  the  trunk  had  at  last  been  lifted 
tenderly  to  the  top. 

"All  in  the  hour,  Madame,"  replied 
the  conductor,  soothingly,  "  I  have  but 
one  other  passenger,  who  lives  upon  the 
quay." 

"Upon  the  quay!"  cried  Achille, 
thrusting  a  hand  into  his  pocket,  "  I'll 
give  you  twenty  francs  to  forget  him." 

"  Let  me  see  your  money,"  said  the 
coachman. 

The  omnibus  did  not  drive  to  the 
house  upon  the  quay,  but  straight  out 
into  the  country,  and  before  long  the 
158 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

red-tiled  roof  of  the  captain's  dreams, 
and  even  the  tower  of  the  church  were 
lost  behind  the  trees.  It  was  a  pleasant 
land  of  haystacks  and  hamlets  through 
which  they  rode,  a  land  of  cattle  and 
children,  of  dogs  and  hollyhocks;  and, 
in  spite  of  some  little  uncertainty 
concerning  the  future,  the  spirit  of 
homewardbound  came  over  the 
travelers,  and  they  chatted  gaily  of 
past  experiences  as  folks  who  near 
their  journey's  end.  Achille  was 
amusing  at  the  expense  of  the  captain, 
and  the  Countess  showed  him  the  cork 
of  the  bottle  that  she  had  taken  from 
the  cabin  for  a  souvenir.  Then  he 
asked  her  to  tell  him  the  secret  of  the 
peasant  girl  in  the  railway  carriage. 

"  She  is  my  foster  sister,"  said  the 
Countess,  "  who  happened  by  good  for 
tune  to  be  on  her  way  this  morning  to 
attend  the  christening  of  her  brother's 
child,  with  her  entire  wardrobe  in  a 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

black  basket.  Of  course,  she  would  do 
anything  for  me,  and  sometime  I  shall 
send  her  a  new  frock." 

"  At  the  next  village,"  said  the  coach 
man,  who  had  been  making  the  most 
of  the  rare  experience  of  passengers 
unfamiliar  with  the  road,  "one  can  buy 
barley  sugar  manufactured  at  the  con 
vent." 

"And  what  is  the  name  of  the  place?" 
inquired  the  lady,  politely. 

"  St.  Ives." 

"  You  have  now  made  the  circuit  of 
the  Department,"  said  Achille,  laugh 
ing. 

"  Dear  me,  is  that  all?  And  the  Lady 
of  the  Aroostook  went  half  around  the 
world!" 

"  The  barley  sugar  is  to  be  bought  at 
the  baker's;  shall  I  stop?"  asked  the 
driver. 

"  On  no  account,"  cried  the  Countess, 
"  I  hate  barley  sugar." 
1 60 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

As  they  passed  beneath  a  long  white 
wall  she  showed  Achille  the  tops  of 
trees  that  shaded  the  cool  green  alley 
where  the  Saints  stood,  the  figure  on 
the  chapel  roof  that  was  better  than  a 
lightning  rod,  and  the  window  from 
which  she  had  watched  the  haymakers 
during  the  hour  of  private  meditation. 

"I  do  believe,"  she  cried,  "that Sister 
Marie-Joseph  is  still  trying  to  make  that 
wretched  little  crocus  grow  in  a  broken 
tooth  mug."  It  seemed  to  her  that  she 
had  been  away  a  year. 

"  Dear  me,  he  is  going  to  stop!"  she 
whispered,  a  moment  later,  clutching  her 
companion's  arm,  "  please  don't  let 
him." 

"  I  cannot  pass  the  Post  Office,"  pro 
tested  the  driver  who  had  overheard, 
"  and  besides  there  appears  to  be  a  lady 
who  wishes  to  get  on  ,  .  .  Whoa,  my 
children!  ;  .  .  Mount  here,  Madame, 
it  is  the  only  place." 
161 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver  Moon 

"  You  can  take  her  on  your  way 
back,"  suggested  the  Countess  hurriedly, 
but  the  next  instant  she  had  sprung 
from  her  seat,  and  seemingly  without 
aid  of  the  steps,  alighted  on  the  road 
just  as  the  veiled  head  of  a  nun  arose 
upon  the  other  side. 

"  Don't  wait  for  us,"  gasped  Achille, 
as  he  made  haste  to  follow,  "  this  is 
where  we  live! " 

"  Well! "  exclaimed  the  Countess,  still 
panting,  as,  from  a  distance,  they 
watched  the  omnibus  drive  away,  "that 
is  what  I  call  a  narrow  escape!" 

"I  suppose  you  wished  to  avoid  the 
nun,"  reflected  Achille,  doubtfully,  "but 
she  seemed  to  have  a  gentle  face." 

"  You  don't  know  Sister  Marie- 
Joseph,"  replied  the  Countess,  adding, 
"Oh!  was  it  not  fortunate  that  I  saw 
her  in  time  to  get  off." 

"  Very,"  assented  the  other,  warmly, 
as  he  looked  about  him,  comprehending 
162 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

in  a  glance  the  ten  small  houses  of  the 
hamlet.  "  Very  fortunate  indeed! " 

They  moved  aimlessly  and  in  silence 
beside  the  white  wall,  and  for  a  time  the 
young  man's  brow  was  wrinkled  in 
perplexity,  then,  glancing  at  his  com 
panion,  he  saw  that  there  were  tears  in 
her  eyes,  and  asked  humbly  if  he  had 
said  anything  to  offend  her. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  mournfully,  "but 
I  know  exactly  what  you  are  think 
ing." 

"  I  was  thinking,"  he  protested,  "  of 
nothing  more  terrible  than  that  those 
distant  trees  must  mark  the  course  of 
the  little  river  Loup,  and  that  by  the 
path  along  the  shore  my  house  is  not 
two  kilometers  from  St.  Ives.  I  have 
often  heard  the  chapel  bell." 

"I    knew    it!"    cried   the   Countess, 

wiping  her  eyes,  "  you  were  saying  to 

yourself  that  if  I  would  only  walk  up  to 

the  convent  gate  and  knock,  you  could 

163 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

go  home  in  peace  and  be  rid  of  me 
forever." 

"Mademoiselle!     ..." 

"  Yes,"  she  went  on,  her  voice  broken 
with  suppressed  sobs,  "  you  wish  me  to 
go  back  to  prison,  and  that  is  why  you 
have  brought  me  here  instead  of  for 
warding  me  to  Paris,  when  you  could, 
by  grande  vitesse." 

"  Mademoiselle,"  replied  the  young 
man,  proudly,  "  I  have  sworn  not  to 
leave  you  until  you  are  in  the  wigwam 
of  your  people." 

To  this  she  made  no  answer,  but, 
presently,  when  they  came  to  a  lane  at 
the  end  of  the  wall,  she  said,  laughing: 

"I  am  going  to  take  one  peep  at 
them  through  the  keyhole  of  the  little 
gate;  you  wait  here  and  call  me  if  any 
one  should  be  coming." 

So  saying  she  ran  a  few  steps  along 
the  lane,  and  as  she  bent  to  carry  out 
her  purpose  he  turned  again  to  the 
164 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

highway;  but,  before  a  minute  of  the 
watch  had  passed,  he  fancied  that  he 
heard  a  cry  and  wheeled  about.  The 
Countess  had  vanished. 

Achille  sprang  to  the  gate  and  shook 
it  violently,  but  without  result.  Then, 
looking  through  the  keyhole,  he  saw 
figures  in  the  distance  moving  toward 
the  convent  in  obedience  to  the  sum 
mons  of  a  bell. 

Refraining  from  further  demonstra 
tion  (for  had  the  Countess  been 
entrapped  it  was  improbable  that  she 
should  still  be  within  hearing),  Achille 
leaned  against  the  wall  and  tried  to 
decide  how  others,  more  experienced 
than  himself,  would  set  about  a  rescue, 
involuntarily  turning  in  his  perplexity 
less  to  Uncas  than  to  Pierre  Rabot. 

"Adieu,  je  pars! 

Plus  de  retard! 

Mais  j'ai  1'espoir 

De  vous  revoir!    .    .    . 
165 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

So  sang  the  unsympathetic  voice  of  a 
person  who  now  approached  from  the 
end  of  the  lane.  From  his  dress  and 
the  burden  in  his  arms,  Achille  divined 
at  once  that  he  was  the  baker,  and  then, 
recalling  what  he  had  heard  of  that  in 
dividual's  character  and  history,  he 
determined  to  make  good  use  of  the 
knowledge. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  raising  such 
a  row  outside  of  our  wall  ?"  he  demanded 
sternly,  standing  erect  as  a  sentinel  be 
fore  the  gate. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon!"  replied  the 
baker,  taken  aback,  "  I  thought  that 
they  had  all  gone  in — it  is  nearly  six 
o'clock." 

"Ah,  you  remembered  that!  Then 
why  are  you  so  late  with  the  bread  ?"  It 
seemed  safe  to  assume  that  the  baker 
was  late. 

"The  oven  was  slow  to-day  on 
account  of  the  east  wind,"  replied  the 

166 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

man,  apologetically,  adding,  with  less 
humility,  "  Who  are  you  anyway?  " 

"That  you  will  find  out  soon  enough. 
Give  me  the  bread,  and  let  me  tell  you 
one  thing — we  are  not  going  to  have 
any  more  note-carrying  and  bicycle- 
renting  here." 

"  Ah! "  sneered  the  baker,  "  so  you  are 
the  porterthey  have  been  threateningto 
get!  Well,  I  suppose  that  we  shall  have 
to  divide  profits." 

"  That  we  shall  see  later,"  replied 
Achille,  with  dignity,  "meanwhile  you 
had  better  hand  over  that  key." 

"  Oh,  as  to  that     ..." 

"  As  to  that,  my  brother  is  a  baker  in 
Greslin." 

"Come  now,"  protested  the  trades 
man  as  he  produced  the  key,  "  fair 
play!  What  do  you  say  to  one- 
third?" 

"  One-half  and  all  tips  my  own," 
replied  the  porter  with  determination 
167 


The   Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

as  he  opened  the  gate,  "  Good  eve 
ning." 

The  garden  appeared  deserted  to 
Achille  as,  long  loaves  under  each  arm 
and  a  large  brioche  carried  carefully  in 
both  hands,  he  advanced  with  stealthy 
steps  amid  the  sweet  smelling  shrub 
bery,  but  in  the  Alley  of  the  Saints  he 
came  upon  two  figures  in  whispered 
consultation — the  Baroness  de  Brazos 
and,  to  his  great  relief,  the  Countess! 

"  Ah,"  said  the  elder  lady,  scarcely 
looking  at  him,  "  the  baker  has  a  new 
boy.  Just  tell  your  master,  '  no  rolls 
this  evening/ — he  will  understand," 
but  the  Countess  clasped  her  hands  and 
gave  a  cry  of  pleasure. 

"  I  am  so  fond  of  brioche!"  she  said 
in  explanation. 

For  an  instant  their  eyes  met. 

"Oh,  save  me!"  she  said  tragically, 
"save  me  a  great  big  piece!"  Then 
turning  to  her  companion  she  remarked 
1 68 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

audibly:  "When  will  these  stupid  peo 
ple  learn  to  take  the  right  hand  path 
to  the  kitchen!  " 

The  convent  cook  hummed  snatches 
of  the  Marseillaise  as  with  a  fork  he 
prodded  fancied  foes  of  freedom  boil 
ing  in  a  pot  before  him. 

"Well,  my  friend,"  he  observed 
across  his  shoulder,  "  you  grow  later 
every  day,  but  soon  the  breakfast  bread 
will  come  in  time  for  dinner  and  then 
we  shall  be  all  right  again." 

"My  uncle  said  that  the  oven — ,"  be 
gan  Achille,  but  at  the  sound  of  a  strange 
voice  the  other  turned  and  regarded 
him  with  unconcealed  suspicion. 

"  I  don't  suppose  that  you  have  heard 
the  news,"  went  on  the  baker's  relative 
laying  down  the  bread  —  "  the  stage 
driver  has  just  brought  it." 

"  What  news?  "  demanded  the  cook. 

"Why,  that  the  Emperor  William 
has  abdicated! " 

169 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

"  Hurrah!  "  cried  the  patriot,  waving 
his  fork.  "  There  will  be  a  revolu 
tion!" 

"  That's  what  I  say,"  assented  Achille, 
amiably  adding  details  of  the  great 
event  with  such  rapidity  that  the  other 
poured  out  a  brimming  glass  of  cider 
to  moisten  his  throat. 

"  How  do  you  like  being  chef  in  a 
nunnery?"  inquired  Achille  when  the 
enthusiasm  had  somewhat  abated. 

"Bah!"  cried  the  other.  "It's  a 
mole's  life!  Were  it  not  that  I  should 
hate  to  see  the  institution  closed  I  too 
would  abdicate." 

"Of  course,"  faltered  Achille,  "a 
great  deal  depends  on  you." 

"  Everything,"  replied  the  chef  im 
pressively.  "  You  see  our  boarders  are 
our  main  reliance.  What  brings  them? 
our  piety?  There  is  as  good  elsewhere. 
What  keeps  them?  our  wall?  A  small 
matter  to  women,  my  boy.  Ah,  they 
170 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

are  cute,  these  fuzzy  heads.  They 
know  that  nowhere  can  be  found  such 
lapin  en  casserole,  such  tripes  a  la  mode 
de  Caen.  Goodness!"  The  cook  had 
opened  the  shutter  of  the  buttery  hutch 
on  a  crack,  and  peered  into  the  adjoin 
ing  room.  "They  are  all  at  table  and 
the  soup  is  still  in  the  pot!  " 

"  Can't  I  do  something?"  cried 
Achille,  jumping  up  with  alacrity. 

"  Yes,  take  in  that  bread  like  a  good 
fellow." 

"Anything  to  oblige!" 

"  It's  not  the  Sisters,"  went  on  the 
cook,  reassuringly,  "  they  had  gruel  at 
five  and  are  now  listening  to  a  discourse 
from  the  bishop.  Here,  before  you 
show  yourself  put  on  an  apron  and  that 
cap;  now  you  look  less  like  a  plowboy. 
Thank  heaven,  Sister  Marie-Joseph  is 
away!" 

Achille,  assisted  by  a  push  of  encour 
agement,  burst  suddenly  into  a  low 

I  71 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

arched  room  where  a  dozen  ladies  sat 
demurely  about  a  long  table,  while 
from  a  high  seat  by  the  window  a  pale 
young  nun  read  aloud  the  Life  of  Saint 
Elizabeth.  The  Baroness  de  Brazos 
occupied  the  place  of  honor  and  on  her 
right  the  Countess  made  a  little  signal 
with  her  napkin. 

" '  Her  husband  was  a  coarse  and  bru 
tal  nature,  and  altogether  incapable  of 
appreciating  her  delicacy  of  sentiment 
and  feeling/  " — read  the  Sister,  and 
thereupon  several  of  the  ladies  ex 
changed  sympathetic  glances. 

Achille  contrived  to  touch  the  Count 
ess's  hand  with  the  end  of  a  long  loaf 
and  returned  to  the  kitchen. 

"  Give  me  the  soup! "  he  cried  exult 
antly. 

"Good  for  you!  "  exclaimed  the  cook. 
"  I  wish  I  had  a  butler  to  help  me  every 
day.    Careful  now,  and  be  sure  that 
each  one  gets  a  carrot." 
172 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

"What  kind  of  soup  is  this?"  asked 
the  Countess  when  her  turn  came. 

"We  call  it  "Garden  Gate"  Madame," 
whispered  Achille. 

As  he  helped  her  to  the  roast  he 
said: 

"  The  outside  is  the  best." 

"Are  you  the  new  waiter?"  she 
asked  innocently. 

"  No,  Madame,  but  /  shall  wait  this 
evening" 

They  did  not  speak  again  until  the 
coffee  appeared  and  then  he  asked  how 
many  lumps  she  took. 

"  About  eight,  I  think,"  she  answered 
absently,  then  laughing,  she  said  that 
she  had  been  thinking  of  something 
else. 

" '  And  at  the  touch  of  the  angel,'  " 
read  the  Sister,  "  'behold  the  bread  was 
changed  to  roses.  .  .' " 

"  Is  it  not  a  sweet  story!  "  sighed  all 
the  ladies. 

173 


The    Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"You  are  a  good  fellow!"  said  the 
chef  to  Achille  for  the  twentieth  time 
as  they  dined  together.  "  Come  fill 
your  glass.  Here's  death  to  all  tyrants! 
Lord!  here  comes  the  Mother  Superior. 
Run  for  your  life!" 

So  saying  the  apostle  of  liberty 
dropped  upon  all  fours  and  crawled  be 
neath  the  table,  while  Achille,  not 
knowing  what  else  to  do,  caught  up 
a  dish  cloth  and  began  polishing  a  cop 
per  pan. 

"  Come  at  once  to  the  library!  "  The 
summons  from  the  doorway  was  low 
but  firm.  "  Come  at  once,  do  you  un 
derstand!  " 

Conscious  of  guilt,  Achille  made  no 
remonstrance,  and  determining  to 
throw  himself  upon  the  mercy  of  the 
worthy  woman  at  the  first  opportunity, 
he  followed  meekly.  As  he  went  he 
heard  the  labored  breathing  of  the 
cook. 

174 


He  commenced  polishing  a  pan. 


X 

The  silence  was  profound  in  the 
refectory  where  all  the  ladies  stood  in 
respect  for  the  good  abbess  as  she 
passed,  and  Achille  glanced  furtively 
about,  hoping  to  give  the  Countess  some 
mute  assurance  of  his  discretion;  but 
he  could  not  find  her  in  the  group,  and 
began  to  fear  that,  ignorant  of  his  fate, 
she  might  find  herself  unprotected  be 
yond  the  walls. 

The  Mother  moved  rapidly,  and  they 
now  traversed  a  gloomy  corridor  which 
ended  iii  a  large  apartment  dimly 
lighted  by  stained  glass  windows,  and 
filled  with  book  shelves. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  Abbess  sadly, 
as  they  paused  in  the  shadow  of  a  pil 
lar,  "  what  have  you  to  say  for  your 
self?" 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  Nothing,  Madame,"  murmured 
Achille  truthfully,  and  the  lady  con 
tinued: 

"  My  first  impulse  was  to  banish  you 
forever." 

Achille  was  about  to  reply  that  such 
an  arrangement  would  have  been  mutu 
ally  satisfactory,  but  he  controlled  him 
self. 

"  To  think!  "  went  on  the  Mother  Su 
perior,  clasping  her  white  hands,  "  that 
you  should  have  forgotten  Friday  three 
times  in  one  month! " 

"Ah! "  gasped  the  culprit,  seeing  light. 

"  Mutton!"  sighed  the  Mother,  "  roast 
mutton!" 

"  Veal,  Madame,"  pleaded  the  sinner 
softly. 

41 1  do  not  turn  you  away,  because  a 
person  of  your  incompetence  would 
surely  starve  in  the  uncharitable  world. 
I  shall  give  you  one  more  chance.  The 
Bishop  has  graciously  consented  to  ad- 
176 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

monish  you  severely,  and  I  trust  that  he 
may  get  some  sense  into  your  stupid 
head.  Wait  here! " 

As  the  stout  door  closed  Achille 
heard  the  bolt  drawn,  and  realized  that 
he  was  a  captive. 

Of  course  he  must  meet  the  Bishop 
as  man  to  man,  but  whether  one  man 
should  be  the  cook,  the  baker,  Pierre 
Rabot  or  himself  was  a  difficult  ques 
tion,  for  each  character  in  turn  seemed 
the  one  least  likely  to  meet  the  prelate's 
approbation. 

His  reflections  were  cut  short  by  the 
grating  of  the  lock,  followed  by  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  veiled  nun  who  beckoned 
in  silence. 

"Yes,  Madame,"  murmured  Achille 
dejectedly,  and  once  more  he  entered 
the  corridor,  rehearsing  as  he  went: 
"  My  Lord,  I  am  a  baker."  "  My  Lord, 
I  am  a  poor  artisan."  "  My  Lord,  I 
am—" 

177 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  This  way  if  you  please." 

Straight  through  the  great  front  door 
they  passed,  and  in  another  moment 
Achille  stood  blinking  in  the  light  of 
day,  with  the  free  fields  spread  out  be 
fore  him,  but  his  guide  did  not  allow 
him  to  stop  till  they  had  turned  an 
angle  in  the  convent  wall.  Then  as 
she  threw  back  her  veil,  he  heard  a 
familiar  laugh,  and  a  welcome  voice 
exclaimed: 

"  Well,  Monsieur  Vifour,  what  do  you 
think  of  me  now?" 

"  I  thought  at  first,"  he  answered, 
restraining  an  impulse  toward  untimely 
demonstration,  "  that  you  were  the  di 
rectress  of  the  Torture  Chamber." 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  I  frightened  you!" 
she  cried  with  charming  frankness. 
"I  walked  right  past  them  all;  this  is 
the  second  best  habit  of  Sister  Marie- 
Joseph." 

"  I  am  sure  that  it  is  very  becoming," 
178 


There's  that  cheeky  po>te>-  '. 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

he  remarked,  admiringly,  "  but  the  other 
dress  was  perhaps  a  trifle — less  notice 
able." 

"  Indeed,"  replied  the  lady  tossing 
her  head,  "if  you  fancy  yourself  incon 
spicuous  in  that  white  apron  and  cap, 
you  are  very  much  mistaken." 

"  I  had  forgotten!"  gasped  Achille/'I 
was  planning,  if  we  ever  got  out,  to 
reach  Greslin  and  there  take  the  land 
lady  of  the  Golden  Cat  into  our  confi 
dence,  but  now — " 

"  It  would  have  been  perfect,  but  I 
am  afraid  that  we  must  think  of  some 
thing  else!"  sighed  the  Countess. 

"  Good  evening,  my  Sister,"  croaked 
the  voice  of  an  old  woman  close  at 
hand.  She  had  come  up  unobserved, 
and  now  stood  dropping  courtesies  that 
threatened  to  dislodge  the  basket  ba 
lanced  on  her  head. 

"  Good  evening,"  replied  the  Countess 
graciously.     "What  have  you  there?" 
179 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  Cepes,  my  Sister!  I  have  been 
gathering  them  in  the  wood." 

11  How  do  you  sell  them  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  expect  to  sell  them, 
they  are  for  my  rabbits." 

"  But  I  want  to  buy.  Will  ten  francs 
be  enough  ?" 

"  Too  much,  my  lady." 

"  And  five  more  for  the  basket  ?" 

"  Heaven  bless  you,  good  Sister!" 

"  Auguste!"  said  the  Countess  loftily, 
"  just  pay  this  good  woman." 

"  What  in  the  world  are  you  going  to 
do  with  the  things  ?  "  demanded  Achille 
when  the  peasant  had  gone  rejoicing 
on  her  way. 

"  Oh,  you  shall  see.  Put  the  basket 
on  your  head  and  follow  me,  just  as  you 
did  the  Mother." 

"  But  you  have  no  idea  how  heavy 
they  are." 

"  So  much  the  better.  Keep  just  five 
paces  behind." 

1 80 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

As  they  passed  along  the  village 
street  the  townsfolk  before  the  doors 
spoke  approvingly  of  the  errand  of 
mercy,  and  greeted  the  Sister  with  many 
benedictions. 

"  There  is  that  cheeky  porter  ! "  re 
marked  the  baker,  "  I  wonder  how  he 
likes  his  situation  now." 

"I  do  not  think  that  we  shall  need 
the  cepes  any  more,"  said  the  Countess 
when  the  last  house  was  far  behind — 
"  but  wasn't  it  fun  ?  " 

"  Jolly!  "  replied  Achille.  "  I  believe 
there  is  a  permanent  dent  in  my  skull. 
And  now,  Mademoiselle,"  he  added, 
deferentially,  "  I  have  a  plan  that  I 
think  will  solve  all  our  difficulties." 

"Excellent!"  she  exclaimed,  "that 
is  just  what  we  want." 

He    led    the    way  across  the  fields 

toward  the  little  river  Loup,  and  then 

along    the    path    beneath    the    trees. 

Sometimes  she  loitered    to    put  corn 

181 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

flowers  in  her  girdle,  or  poppies  in  the 
close  drawn  convent  cap.  When  in  the 
distance  a  glimpse  of  blue  slate  stood 
against  the  blue  sky,  he  said  softly— 

"  There  yonder  is  the  Chateau,"  and 
she,  for  no  reason,  blushed. 

Then  she  told  him  how  her  former 
roommate  had  been  waiting  to  way 
lay  the  baker  at  the  gate,  and  how  the 
Baroness's  noisy  joy  had  forced  her  to 
avoid  a  scene  by  going  in,  and  he  told 
of  the  Emperor's  abdication,  and  they 
discussed  the  Bishop  and  the  veal,  and 
the  surprise  awaiting  Sister  Marie- 
Joseph — 

"  Really,"  she  remarked,  "we  are 
getting  to  be  as  untruthful  as  Saint 
Elizabeth." 

After  an  hour,  walking  slowly,  they 
came  to  the  washing-shed  under  the 
willow  tree,  and  there  he  threw  open 
the  door  with  an  exaggerated  show  of 
welcome. 

182 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  What  place  is  this  ?"  she  asked  as 
she  entered  laughing. 

"  This,"  he  answered  gaily,  "  is  the 
original  Inn  of  the  Silver  Moon.  You 
will  find  it  perfectly  appointed!  See 
we  have  both  soap  and  Javelle  water. 
Will  Mademoiselle  sit  upon  the  washing 
box  or  the  linen  barrow?  Both  are  de 
lightfully  comfortable!  " 

The  Countess  knelt  down  at  the 
water's  edge  and  dipped  her  handker 
chief  in  the  stream  and  beat  it  with  the 
wooden  paddle  after  the  manner  of 
laundresses,  and  when  she  grew  tired  of 
the  play  they  looked  together  from  the 
crack  of  the  door,  and  he  showed  her 
the  gables  of  the  house  and  told  her 
which  wing  had  been  built  by  his  father, 
and  which  by  his  grandfather,  the  colo 
nel  of  Napoleon.  Once  when  there  was 
a  sound  of  barking  in  the  garden  he 
said — 

"Jules  is  feeding  the  dogs.  Listen 
183 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

to  the  great  Brutus!  That  is  Boy 
grumbling  at  his  biscuit,  and  asking  for 
meat  like  the  others.  Toto,  the  rascal, 
is  too  busy  eating  to  say  a  word." 

As  the  long  June  twilight  waned  they 
spoke  of  books  they  had  read,  and  po 
etry  and  music,  and  of  days  at  school, 
but  of  the  future  not  a  word.  She  did 
not  ask  why  they  waited  there,  and  for 
the  time  it  was  enough  for  him  to  know 
that  it  was  his  ground  beneath  her  feet, 
that  the  linen  barrow  on  which  she  sat 
was  his  linen  barrow.  Bye  and  bye 
there  were  stars  in  the  water,  the  frogs 
croaked  from  the  pool  behind  the  wil 
lows,  and  they  heard  the  noise  of  Jules 
locking  the  gate,  and  watched  the 
kitchen  lights  go  out  to  reappear  in  the 
windows  of  the  servants'  hall;  then 
Achille  said — 

"  You  will  not  be  afraid,  Mademoi 
selle,  if  I  leave  you  for  a  half  an 
hour?" 

184 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  No,"  she  answered,  "  I  shall  not  be 
afraid." 

"  You  do  not  ask  me  what  I  am  going 
to  do." 

"  Because  I  know  that  it  is  something 
for  me." 

Achille  jingled  a  bunch  of  keys  in  the 
dark — 

"I  am  going,"  he  said,  "  to  burglarize 
my  own  house." 

"  I  do  not  think,"  said  she,  "  that  that 
could  be  used  against  you  at  the  trial." 


'85 


XI 

During  the  evening  spent  by  the 
master  with  the  Countess  in  the  washing- 
shed,  the  butler  of  the  Chateau  Vifour, 
seated  in  his  armchair  in  the  servants' 
hall,  read  the  Petit  Journal  from  feuille- 
ton  to  medical  advertisements,  while 
the  cook  on  the  other  side  of  the  lamp 
entertained  himself  with  the  columns  of 
a  more  highly-seasoned  publication. 
At  the  end  of  the  table  Jules  played 
solitaire. 

"Where  are  the  others?"  asked  the 
butler,  looking  up  suddenly  after  a  long 
silence. 

"The  maids  are  in  the  housekeeper's 
room  admiring  some  trumpery  that 
Madame  Jane  has  received  from  Paris." 

"Parbleu!  the  old  lady  grows  vainer 
187 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

every  day.  It  is  unfortunate  for  her 
purse  that  she  still  retains  her  figure. 
Where  is  Paul?" 

"  He  has  gone  to  the  saddler's  for 
Boy's  collar." 

11  He  has  gone  to  the  wine  shop  to 
gossip!  When  the  master  returns  I  will 
report  him." 

"Ah!  when  he  returns!  Two  dinners 
and  a  breakfast!  I  never  made  a  better 
soufflet." 

"It  was  excellent,"  assented  Jules  .  .  . 
"  Behold  Madame  Jane  and  the  foolish 
virgins." 

As  the  ladies  entered  the  cook  re 
marked  cynically,  "  Women  are  fortu 
nate;  they  are  able  to  forget  all  trouble 
in  the  contemplation  of  a  new  gown." 

"  I  have  a  presentiment  that  I  shall 
never  wear  it,"  sighed  Madame  Jane, 
picking  up  her  knitting. 

"  If  you  had  only  ordered  it  black," 
sighed  the  under  housemaid,  picking  up 
1 88 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

the  cat.  "  I  suppose  that  nothing  has 
been  heard  of  Monsieur?" 

"  Monsieur  will  not  return  to-night," 
said  the  butler.  "  Let  us  not  forget 
to  remember  Monsieur  in  our  prayers. 
Jules,  put  out  the  pug." 

Presently  Paul  came  in  and  greeted 
the  company  with  an  air  of  unconcern 
which  was  clearly  affected.  It  was  evi 
dent  that  he  had  weighty  matters  on 
his  mind,  and  that  in  his  anxiety  to 
communicate  them  he  had  been  walking 
rapidly. 

"Oh  la,  la,  it  is  warm!"  he  panted, 
sinking  into  a  chair,  then  continuing, 

carelessly,  "  Where  is  the  Journal 

Ah,  pardon,  Monsieur  le  Maitre  d'hotel, 
I  did  not  observe  that  you  were  reading 
it." 

"  Did  you  get  the  collar?  "  demanded 
the  butler. 

"The  collar?  Ah,  yes,  no — it  was  not 
finished." 

189 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"Whom  did  you  see  in  town?"  asked 
Madame  Jane. 

"  One  or  two,  I  don't  remember.  I 
was  there  but  a  moment." 

"  Come,"  said  the  butler,  throwing 
down  his  paper,  "we  all  know  that  you 
have  been  gossiping.  It  was  not  dig 
nified  for  one  of  us,  but  since  you 
have  demeaned  yourself  to  do  it, 
you  may  as  well  tell  us  what  you  have 
heard."' 

"  If  some  of  us  did  not  have  ears,  no 
body  would  know  anything,"  remarked 
the  under  housemaid. 

"  Out  with  it  before  it  chokes  you," 
put  in  the  cook. 

"  Perhaps,"  began  Paul,  unable  to 
contain  himself  longer,  "  perhaps  it 
would  interest  you  to  know  that  the 
master  has  been  seen." 

"Where?  How?  When?"  the  others 
cried  in  chorus. 

"  Oh,  at  several  places  and  several 
190 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

times.  First,  at  the  buvette  near  the 
octoir " 

"Never  there?!!" 

"  Yes,  there,  and  in  the  company  of 
two  ladies;  very  chic;  very  blonde, 
and  dressed  like  boys  with  pretty 
stockings '' 

"  Never  mind  the  details,"  interrupted 
Madame  Jane. 

"  Monsieur  was  amusing  himself," 
chuckled  the  cook,  "  what  then?" 

"One  of  the  two  punctured  her 
bicycle,  and  Monsieur  took  them  to  the 
Pig  Market  on  foot,  afterwards  he 
returned  and  repaired  the  leak  himself 
and  rode  away." 

"  Monsieur  does  not  know  how  to 
ride  a  bicycle! "  exclaimed  the  butler. 

"  He  could  not  repair  a  lead  pencil," 
said  Jules. 

"  We  do  not  know  what  he  can  do," 
resumed  Paul.  "There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  it  was  he.  He  wore  the 
191 


The   Inn   of   the   Silver   Moon 

white  straw  hat  and  gray  suit  that  he 
had  on  when  I  saw  him  in  the  garden, 
the  landlord  recognized  him  at  once." 

"What  did  he  do  then?" 

"  That  you  may  well  ask.  What  did 
he  not  do?  He  went  mad!  He  dressed 
himself  like  a  peasant,  and  told  people 
he  was  a  jeweler.  He  ate  an  omelet  on 
the  top  of  a  ladder,  and  finally  he 
bought  two  red  pillows  and  drove  off  in 
a  circus  wagon  with  one  of  the  blondes. 
In  the  end,  the  Devil  came  out  of  the 
woods  with  a  scythe  and  carried  them 
both  away,  and  the  lad  who  drove  them 
barely  escaped  with  his  life.  What  do 
you  think  of  that?" 

"  I  think  that  you  have  been  drink 
ing,"  said  the  butler. 

"  You  do  not  suppose  that  he  could 
hear  all  that  without  treating  once  or 
twice,"  remarked  the  cook. 

"  You  are  a  fool  and  they  have  been 
making  fun  of  you,"  said  the  butler. 
192 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"  The  story  seems  to  me  quite  prob 
able,"  the  under  housemaid  whispered. 

"Hark!"    cried    Madame    Jane,    "I 
thought  I  heard  a  footstep  overhead." 

"The  Saints  preserve  us!  what  can  it 
be?"  gasped  the  laundress. 

"Silence!  it  is  nothing,"  said  the  but 
ler  calmly. 

"  What  is  that  at  the  front  door?" 

"  It  is  Brutus  scratching  to  get  in." 

"  He  never  did  that  before." 

"  Never! " 

"  Holy  Saints! " 

"  I  have  left  my  wardrobe  unlocked." 

"  There  is  the  step  again! " 

"  Yes,  I  heard  it  then." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  a  rat." 

"  It  is  too  loud  for  a  rat." 

"  Paul,  open  the  door! " 

"  Sacre  Bleu!    Open  it  yourself." 

"  Holy  Saints! " 

"  The  cat  has  stopped  purring." 

"  There  it  is  again! " 
193 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

"Jules,"  said  the  butler,  rising  and 
buttoning  his  coat,  "  Jules,  come  with 
me.  Paul,  follow  us." 

"And  leave  the  women  alone?  Not 
I." 

"  Please  do  not  leave  us  alone," 
sobbed  the  under  housemaid. 

Arming  themselves  with  such  offen 
sive  weapons  as  the  kitchen  could  sup 
ply,  the  butler  and  Jules  took  each  a 
candle  and  went  cautiously  into  the 
darkness  of  the  house,  while  Paul  stood 
bravely  in  the  doorway  and  followed 
only  with  his  ears. 

Stealthily  they  crept  from  room  to 
room,  pausing  often  to  note  the  now 
unmistakable  movements  of  the  myste 
rious  invader,  and  so  by  slow  degrees 
they  mounted  to  the  second  story,  keep 
ing  always  at  a  prudent  distance,  but 
following  relentlessly  upon  his  track. 
After  a  little  they  became  aware  that 
the  visitor  had  discovered  the  pursuit 
194 


Surrender  or  die! 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

and  was  retreating,  and  they  advanced 
more  boldly,  pressing  him  closer,  till  at 
last  they  drove  him  for  refuge  to  the 
bathroom,  where,  checked  by  the  click 
ing  of  a  key,  they  paused  for  consulta 
tion. 

"We  have  trapped  him!"  cried  Jules 
exultantly.  "  Let  us  leave  him  there 
till  morning." 

"  Never,"  replied  the  butler  who  was 
a  man  of  much  stronger  character,  and 
tapping  on  the  panel  he  cried  out: 
"  Surrender,  or  I  will  shoot." 

"  You  can't  shoot  with  a  basting 
spoon,"  whispered  Jules. 

"Surrender  or  die!"  repeated  the 
butler  loudly. 

At  the  second  summons  the  door 
swung  slowly  open  and  they  beheld  the 
master — Achille  Vifour  himself,  a  can 
dle  in  his  hand.  His  hair  was  dishev 
elled,  his  face  was  ashen  pale,  and  he 
was  dressed  in  his  pink  silk  pajamas. 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver   Moon 

The  pursuers  turned  and  fled  without 
a  word.  As  they  re-entered  the  hall, 
Jules  well  in  the  lead,  Paul  closed  the 
door  and  drew  the  bolt,  and  the  serv 
ants  looked  in  each  ethers'  faces  in 
awful  silence.  .  . 

"  Without  doubt,"  said  the  butler  sol 
emnly,   "something    terrible  has  hap 
pened." 
*  *  *  *  #  * 

In  the  morning  it  was  discovered  that 
the  thing  that  had  been  seen  was  not 
the  wraith  of  Monsieur,  but  the  clever 
disguise  of  a  burglar  who  had  plun 
dered  the  house.  In  the  master's  room 
the  safe  stood  open,  and  the  master's 
closets  had  been  ransacked;  his  English 
portmanteau  had  gone,  his  hat  box  and 
his  jewel  case.  Not  content  with  this 
rich  booty,  the  villain  had  entered  the 
housekeeper's  room  and  helped  himself 
to  the  choicest  treasures  of  Madame 
Jane's  wardrobe;  her  new  gown  from 
196 


They  entered  a  fiacre. 


The   Inn   of  the   Silver   Moon 

Paris;  her  hat  with  parrot  feathers,  and 
her  russet  boots. 

From  the  boat  house  the  punt  was 
missing,  and  it  was  surmised  that  the 
thief  had  poled  his  way  by  star  light 
along  the  reedy  reaches  of  the  little 
river  Loup,  but  at  the  railway  station  it 
was  learned  that  only  two  passengers 
had  taken  the  midnight  express,  a  lady 
who  was  dressed  like  a  Parisienne  and 
a  gentleman  who  looked  English,  and 
had  a  cold  that  required  close  atten 
tion;  only  the  lady  spoke  French. 

"  Doubtless    Americans,"     remarked 

the  mayor. 

****** 

In  the  morning  a  well-dressed  gentle 
man,  carrying  an  English  portmanteau, 
and  accompanied  by  a  lady  with  a  par 
rot  in  her  hat,  passed  from  the  portals 
of  the  Gare  St.  Lazare  and  entered  a 
fiacre. 

"  Allez,  cocher,"  said  the  gentleman. 
197 


The   Inn  of  the   Silver  Moon 

"  Bien,  Monsieur." 

"  And  now  Mademoiselle,"  said  the 
gentleman,  "  I  must  ask  you  a  question 
that  until  this  moment  would  have  been 
impertinent.  Where  do  you  live?" 

"At  the  house  of  the  Marquise  de 
Banville." 

"  The  Marquise  de  Banville!  .  .  . 
she  is  .  .  she  is  .  .  ." 

"The  guardian  of  Gabrielle  de  Belle 
Isle — your  affianced  bride!" 

"  Never,  Mademoiselle!  By  my  life 
there  can  be  but  one — ! " 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  lady  softly, 
"  there  need  be  but  one — I  am  Gabrielle 
de  Belle  Isle." 


THE  END 


198 


PRINTED  BY  R.  R.  DONNELLBY 
AND  SONS  COMPANY  AT  THE 
LAKESIDE  PRESS,  CHICAGO,  ILL. 


y-y .  / 


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